The Legend of Korra Skywalker: A New Hope
by Alexej
Summary: On the barren planet of Tatooine, Korra Skywalker gazes wistfully towards the expanse of space, wishing to be among the stars. Little did she know, her chance would come much sooner, and much more abruptly, than she could have ever imagined.
1. Chapter 1: Beginnings

Quick author's note: This story will use the characters from The Legend of Korra, paired with the themes, settings, and plot of the Star Wars novel/film"A New Hope", and will follow pretty closely to the novel. That being said, there will be some changes - to start with, Korra (playing Luke) and Asami (playing princess Leia) are NOT related. That's important here. Also, my plan is to link the major villains in Korra's world together, all working for the Equalist Empire towards the goal of galactic over-throwing, rather than having them all act as separate parties. Lastly (for now) I own absolutely NOTHING that appears in this story.

Chapter 1: Beginnings

* * *

It was a vast, shining globe, and it cast a light of lambent topaz into space—but it was not a sun. Thus, the planet had fooled men for a long time. Not until entering close orbit around it did its discoverers realize that this was a world, and not a third sun itself. At first it seemed certain nothing could exist on such a planet, least of all humans. Yet, two massive stars orbited a common center with peculiar regularity, and Tatooine circled them from far enough out to permit the development of a rather stable, if exquisitely hot, climate. Mostly this was a dry desert of a world, whose unusual star-like yellow glow was the result of the two stars double sunlight striking Tatooine's sodium-rich sands and flats. That same sunlight suddenly shone on the thin skin of a metallic shape falling crazily toward the planet's atmosphere.

The erratic course that the galactic cruiser was traveling was intentional, not the product of injury, but of a desperate desire to avoid it. Long streaks of intense energy slid close past its hull, a multicolored storm of destruction appearing like a school of piranhas fighting to attach themselves to a larger, unwilling host. One of those probing, questing beams succeeded in touching the fleeing ship, striking its principal solar fin, and gemlike fragments of metal and plastic erupted into space as the end of the fin disintegrated. The vessel seemed to shudder, as the source of those multiple energy beams suddenly came into view—a lumbering Equalist cruiser, its massive outline jagged with dozens of heavy weapons.

Light ceased to arc from those weapons now as the Equalist cruiser moved in close, and intermittent explosions and flashes of light could be seen in those portions of the smaller ship which had taken hits. In the absolute cold of space, the cruiser snuggled up alongside its wounded prey. Another distant explosion shook the smaller ship—but it certainly didn't feel distant to Desna or Eska. The concussion blast bounced them around the narrow corridor like bearings in an old motor. To look at these two, while twins in the majority of both physical and behavioral aspects, one would have supposed that the moderately tall, emotionless female, Eska, was the leader of the two, and that her brother, Desna was her devoted partner. Desna, of course, would deny that fact, but it was obvious to anyone around them that Eska was the more demanding of the duo.

Still another explosion rattled the small ships corridor, throwing Eska off balance. Desna glanced over at Eska, who was steadying herself against a corridor wall. Lights blinked enigmatically around a single mechanical eye as the male rebel studied the battered visage of his friend. A scattering of cuts and bruises marred her abnormally stoic face, and there was still blood running from the gash above her eyebrow—all the result of the pounding the rebel ship they were on had been taking. Accompanying the last attack was a worryingly persistent deep hum resonating within their ship, which, even the loudest explosion had not been able to drown out. Then, for no apparent reason, the bass note thrumming abruptly ceased, and the only sounds in the otherwise deserted corridor came from the eerie dry-twig crackle of shorting relays or the pops of dying circuitry. Explosions began to echo through the ship once more, but they were far away from the corridor.

Eska turned to face the noise, listening intently before speaking. "Did you hear that?" she inquired rhetorically of her patient companion, referring to the throbbing sound. "They've shut down the main reactor and the drive." Her voice was full of disbelief and concern at the implications of their attacker's actions. One dark-skinned palm rubbed dolefully at a patch of torn clothing on her side, where a spreading pool of blood could be seen. Eska groaned, knowing that she would need medical assistance as soon as she and her brother were able to land and hide among a planets population.

"Madness, this is madness," Desna stated as he shook his head slowly. "This time we'll be destroyed for sure." Desna then turned away from his sister, tilted his head backward, and studied the roof overhead, mimicking his sister and also listening intently to the commotion above. "What are we going to do now? We can't enter atmosphere with our main stabilizer fin destroyed. I can't believe we're simply going to surrender.

A small band of their fellow rebels suddenly appeared, rifles held at the ready. Their expressions were as worry-wrinkled as their uniforms, and they carried about them the aura of men and women prepared to die. Eska watched silently until they had vanished around a far bend in the passageway, and then looked back at Desna. The male twin hadn't shifted from his position of listening. Eska's gaze turned upward also, though she knew Desna's sense of hearing was slightly sharper than her own.

"What is it, Desna?" She questioned impatiently.

A short whisper of "Shhh!" came in response as he held a finger to his lips. Another moment, and there was no need for highly attuned senses. For a minute or two more, the corridor remained deathly silent. Then a faint scrape could be heard, like a cat at a door, from somewhere above.

That strange scraping noise was produced by heavy footsteps and the movement of bulky equipment somewhere on the ship's hull. When several muffled explosions sounded, Eska murmured, "They've broken in somewhere above us. There's no escape for Captain Iroh this time." Turning, she peered over at Desna. "I think we'd better—" The shriek of over-stressed metal filled the air before she could finish, and the far end of the passageway was lit by a blinding flash. Somewhere down there the little cluster of armed rebel crew who had passed by minutes before had encountered the ship's attackers. Eska turned her face and delicate blue-grey eyes away—just in time to avoid the fragments of metal that flew down the corridor. At the far end of the hall, a gaping hole appeared in the roof, and reflective forms like big metal beads began dropping to the corridor floor. Both siblings knew that neither of them could match the fluidity with which those shapes moved - as they were more of the diplomatic nature and not trained soldiers – and began to back away slowly, preparing to run the other way down the hall.

The new arrivals were humans in shining white armor, moving with the trained efficiency of robots. One of them looked straight at Eska—no, not at her, the panicked woman thought frantically, but past her, just over her shoulder. The white figure shifted its big rifle around in armored hands—too late. A beam of intense light struck the figures head, sending pieces of armor, bone, and flesh flying in all directions. Half the invading Equalist troops turned and began returning fire up the corridor—aiming past the two unarmed passengers.

"Quick—this way!" Eska ordered, intending to retreat from the Equalists. Desna turned with her. They had taken only a couple of steps when they saw the rebel crewmen in position ahead, firing down the corridor. In seconds the passageway was filled with smoke and crisscrossing beams of energy. Red, green, and blue bolts ricocheted off polished sections of wall and floor or ripped long gashes in metal surfaces. Screams of injured and dying soldiers—a peculiarly unappealing sound, Desna thought—echoed piercingly above the inorganic destruction.

One beam struck near their feet at the same time as a second one burst the wall directly behind them, exposing sparking circuitry and rows of conduits. The force of the twin blast tumbled Eska into the wall near shredded, sparking cables. Every time she moved and tried to free herself there was another violent crackling as a fresh explosion rocked the hull, keeping her off balance. The noise and man-made lightning remained constant around the siblings as the battle continued to rage. Smoke began to fill the corridor as Desna scrambled to grab his sister and steady her.

"This is entirely your fault!" Eska shouted angrily, shoving his hands off her body. "I should have known better than to trust the logic of simple-minded, impulsive boy. I don't know why you insisted we leave our assigned stations to come down this stupid access corridor. Not that it matters now. The whole ship must be —" Desna cut her off in mid-speech with some angry sentiments of his own.

"Is that so?" He sneered in reply. "Well, if YOU hadn't …!" An exceptionally violent explosion shook the passage, drowning him out.

A lung-searing miasma of carbonized component filled the air, obscuring everything. Two meters tall, draped in flowing black robes that trailed behind the figure, and a face forever masked by a functional (if bizarre) white, grey, and red mask—a Dark Lord of the Sith. The figure cast an awesome, threatening shape as it strode through the corridors of the rebel ship. Fear followed the footsteps of all the Dark Lords, and the cloud of evil which clung tight about this particular one was intense enough to cause the hardened Equalist troops to back away, and menacing enough to set them muttering nervously among themselves. Once-resolute rebel crew members ceased resisting, and broke and ran in panic at the sight of the black armor—armor which, though black as it was, was not nearly as dark as the thoughts drifting through the mind within the Sith Lord. One purpose, one thought, one obsession dominated that mind now. It burned in the brain of Darth Amon as he turned down another passageway in the broken fighter. There, smoke was beginning to clear, though the sounds of faraway fighting still resounded through the hull.

The battle here had ended and moved on. Hidden around the access hall corner, Eska pushed as far back into the wall as she could, hoping to escape detection as Darth Amon and his soldiers marched passed her hiding place. Somewhere ahead of her, human screams could be heard from where relentless Equalist troops were mopping up the last remnants of rebel resistance. Eska glanced down and saw only scarred deck. As she looked around, her voice was full of concern.

"Desna—where are you?" The smoke seemed to part just a bit more. Eska found herself staring up the quiet passageway. Desna, it seemed, was there. But he wasn't looking in Eska's direction. Instead, the male appeared frozen in an attitude of attention. Leaning towards him was—it was difficult for Eska's eyes to penetrate the clinging, acidic smoke—a female human figure. She was young, slim, and by Eska's disinterested standards of aesthetics, of a calm beauty. One small hand seemed to be moving towards Desna's torso, a small item held tightly within her grasp. Eska started toward them as the haze thickened once more, but when she reached the end of the corridor, only Desna stood there, waiting. Eska peered past him, uncertain of whether she had simply imagined the young woman due to the confusing circumstances of the past hour and the dose of concussive force she had recently absorbed. She shouldn't be surprised by anything at this point, she figured, and continued towards Desna. "Where have you been?" She finally asked.

"Hiding, I suppose." Desna replied. Eska, still unsure of what she had seen, decided not to mention the beautiful maybe-hallucination. If it had been a hallucination, she wasn't going to give Desna the satisfaction of knowing how badly the recent events had unsettled her logical disposition.

"They'll be coming back this way," he went on, nodding down the corridor and not giving the small automaton a chance to reply, "looking for survivors. What are we going to do now? They won't believe that we don't know anything of value. We'll be sent to the spice mines of Kessel or tortured. That's if they don't consider us potential threats and blow us apart on sight. If we don't …" But Eska had already turned and was ambling quickly back down the passageway. "Wait, where are you going? Haven't you been listening to me?" Uttering curses towards his sister, Desna raced fluidly down the hallway. The quiet female, he thought to himself, could be downright frustrating when she wanted to be.

* * *

Outside the galactic cruiser's control center, the corridor was crowded with sullen rebel prisoners gathered by Equalist troops. Some lay wounded, some dying. Several officers had been separated from the enlisted ranks and stood in a small group by themselves, bestowing belligerent looks and threats on the silent knot of Equalist troops holding them at bay. As if on command, everyone—Equalists as well as rebels—became silent as the massive caped form came into view from behind a turn in the passage. Two of the formerly resolute, obstinate rebel officers began to shake. Stopping before one of the men, the towering cloaked figure reached out wordlessly. A massive hand closed around the smaller man's neck, and lifted him off the deck. The rebel officer's eyes bulged, but he kept his silence. An Equalist officer, his armored helmet shoved back to reveal a recent scar where an energy beam had penetrated his shielding, scrambled down out of the fighter's control room, shaking his head briskly. "There was nothing, Lord Amon. The Information retrieval system's been wiped clean." Darth Amon acknowledged this news with a barely perceptible nod. The impenetrable mask turned to regard the officer he was torturing. Metal-clad fingers contracted. Reaching up, the rebel prisoner desperately tried to pry the gloved hand loose, but to no avail.

"Where is the data you intercepted?" Amon rumbled dangerously. "What have you done with the information tapes?"

"We—intercepted—no information," the dangling officer gurgled, barely able to breathe. From somewhere deep within, he dredged up a squeal of outrage. "This is a … councilor vessel … Did you not see our … exterior markings? We're on a … diplomatic … mission."

"Chaos take your mission!" Amon growled. "Where are those tapes!" He squeezed harder, the threat in his grip implicit.

When he finally replied, the officer's voice was a bare, choked whisper. "Only … the Commander knows."

"This ship carries the system crest of Alderaan," Amon growled, expressionless breath mask leaning close. "Is any of the royal family on board? Who are you carrying?" Thick fingers tightened further, and the officer's struggles became more and more frantic. His last words were muffled and choked past intelligibility. Amon was not pleased. Even though the figure went limp with an awful, unquestionable finality, that hand continued to tighten, producing a chilling snapping and popping of bone. Then, with a disgusted wheeze, Amon finally threw the doll-form of the dead man against a far wall. Several Equalist troops ducked out of the way just in time to avoid the grisly missile. The massive form of the Sith Lord whirled unexpectedly, and Equalist officers shrank under that baleful sculptured stare. "Start tearing this ship apart piece by piece, component by component, until you find those tapes. As for the passengers, if any, I want them alive." He paused a moment, then added, "Quickly!" Officers and men nearly fell over themselves in their haste to leave—not necessarily to carry out Amon's orders, but simply to retreat from that malevolent presence.

* * *

Eska finally came to a halt in an empty corridor devoid of smoke and the signs of battle. A worried, confused Desna pulled up behind her. "You've led us through half the ship, and to what …?" He broke off, staring in disbelief as his sister reached up with one battered limb and snapped the seal on a lifeboat hatch. Immediately a red warning light came on and a low hooting sounded in the corridor. Desna looked wildly in all directions, but the passageway remained empty. When he looked back, Eska was already working her way into the cramped boat pod. It was just large enough to hold a couple people.

"We need to get out of here," an emotionless Eska called out, motioning for Desna to board the small vessel. Positioning herself in front of the miniature control board, she began programming the coordinates for the planet of Alderaan into the navigation computer, and looked over at Desna to see a look of reluctance on her companions face. Eska listened as he spoke quickly, frowning at the incoherent mumbling coming from her brother. "Mission … what mission?" She questioned. "What are you talking about? You sound like you haven't got an ounce of logic left in your brain." He opened his mouth to argue, but was quickly cut off by Eska's tone of finality. "No… no more adventures. I'll take my chances with escaping to Alderaan— we're NOT going to Tatooine." An angry huff sounded from Desna. He was concocting an additional rejoinder when an explosion blew out the back wall of the corridor behind them. Dust and metal debris whooshed through the narrow sub-passageway, followed instantly by a series of secondary explosions. Flames began jumping hungrily from the exposed interior wall, reflecting off the glassy hue of Eska's eyes. Muttering to himself, Desna activated the safety door behind him. The female sibling flipped a series of switches, snapped back a cover, and pressed three buttons in a certain sequence. With the thunder of explosive latches the life pod ejected from the crippled fighter.

* * *

When word came over the communicators that the last pocket of resistance on the rebel ship had been cleaned out, the Captain of the Equalist cruiser relaxed considerably. He was listening with pleasure to the proceedings on the captured vessel when one of his chief gunnery officers called to him. Moving to the man's position, the Captain stared into the circular view screen and saw a tiny dot dropping away toward the fiery world below. "There goes another pod, sir. Instructions?" The officer's hand hovered over a computerized energy battery. Casually, confident in the firepower and total control under his command, the Captain studied the nearby readouts monitoring the pod. All of them read blank.

"Hold your fire, Lieutenant. Instruments show no life forms aboard. The pod's release mechanism must have short-circuited or received a false instruction. Don't waste your power." The Captain turned away, to listen with satisfaction to the reports of captured men and material coming from the rebel ship.

* * *

Back on board the rebel ship, glare from exploding panels and erupting circuitry reflected crazily off the armor of the lead Equalist trooper as he surveyed the passageway ahead. He was about to turn and call for those behind to follow him forward, when he noticed something moving off to one side. It appeared to be crouching back in a small, dark alcove. Holding his pistol ready, he moved cautiously forward and peered into the recess. A small, shivering figure clad in flowing white hugged the back of the recess and stared up at the man. Now he could see that he faced a young woman, and her physical description fit that of the one individual the Dark Lord was most interested in. The trooper grinned behind his helmet. This was a lucky encounter for him, as he would be commended for this find. Within the armor his head turned slightly, directing his voice to the tiny condenser microphone. "Here she is," he called to those behind him. "Set for stun forc—" He never finished the sentence, just as he would never receive the hoped-for commendation. Once his attention turned from the girl to his communicator, her shivering vanished with startling speed. The energy pistol she had held out of sight behind her came up and around as she burst from her hiding place. The trooper who had been unlucky enough to find her fell to the floor, his helmeted head a mass of melted bone and metal. The same fate met the second armored form coming up fast behind him. Then, a bright green energy pole touched the young woman's side and she slumped instantly to the deck, the pistol still locked in her small palm. Metal-encased shapes clustered around her, one whose arm bore the insignia of a lower officer. As the officer knelt and turned her prone figure over, he studied the paralyzed form with a practiced eye

"She'll be all right," he finally declared, looking up at his subordinates. "Report to Lord Amon."

* * *

Eska stared, mesmerized, out the small viewport set in the front of the tiny escape pod as the hot yellow eye of Tatooine began to swallow them up. Despite her initial reluctance, Eska eventually agreed to send the shuttle towards the desert surface of Tatooine, agreeing with her brother that finding passage aboard an actual ship would be preferable to making the journey to Alderaan in the cramped escape pod. Somewhere behind them, she knew, the crippled fighter and the Equalist cruiser were receding to imperceptibility. That was fine with her. If they landed near a civilized city, she would seek medical attention and a hot meal, life on board the rebel vessel had gifted her and her brother with entirely too much excitement and unpredictability for a mere pair of diplomats. Desna's seemingly random manipulation of the pod controls promised anything but a smooth landing, however. Eska regarded her emotionless companion with concern. "Are you sure you know how to pilot this thing?" Desna replied with a noncommittal shrug that did nothing to alter the fairer twin's jangled state of mind.


	2. Chapter 2: A Chance Meeting Pt 1

Chapter 2: A Chance Meeting Pt 1

* * *

It was an old settlers' saying that you could burn your eyes out faster by staring straight and hard at the sun-scorched flatlands of Tatooine than by looking directly at its two huge suns themselves, so powerful was the penetrating glare reflected from those endless wastes. Despite the glare, life could, and did, exist in the flatlands formed by long-evaporated sea beds. One thing made it possible: the reintroduction of water. For human purposes, however, the water of Tatooine was only marginally accessible. The atmosphere yielded its moisture with reluctance. It had to be coaxed down out of the hard blue sky— coaxed, forced, yanked down to the parched surface. Two figures whose concern was obtaining that moisture were standing on a slight rise of one of those inhospitable flats. One of the pair was stiff and metallic—a sand-pitted vaporator sunk securely through sand and into deeper rock. The figure next to it was a good deal more animated, though no less sun weathered.

Korra Skywalker was twice the age of the ten-year-old vaporator, but much less secure. At the moment, she was swearing softly at a recalcitrant valve adjuster on the temperamental device. From time to time she resorted to some unsubtle pounding in place of using the appropriate tool. Neither method worked very well. Korra was sure that the lubricants used on the vaporators went out of their way to attract sand, beckoning seductively to small abrasive particles with an oily gleam.

Giving up on the temperamental machine, she wiped sweat from her forehead and leaned back for a moment. A light breeze tugged at her short, choppily cut dark brown hair and baggy blue work tunic as she regarded the device. No point in staying angry at it, she counseled himself. It's only an unintelligent machine. As Korra considered her predicament, a third figure appeared, scooting out from behind the vaporator to fumble awkwardly at the damaged section. Only three of the Treadwell repair model robot's six arms were functioning, and these had seen more wear than the boots on Korra's feet. The machine moved with unsteady, stop-and-start motions. Korra gazed at it sadly, then inclined her head to study the sky. Still no sign of a cloud, and she knew there never would be unless she got that vaporator working.

She was about to try once again when a small, intense gleam of light caught her eye. Quickly, she slipped the carefully cleaned set of macrobinoculars from her utility belt and focused the lenses skyward. For long moments she stared, wishing all the while that she had a real telescope instead of the binoculars. As she stared, vaporators, the heat, and the day's remaining chores were forgotten. Clipping the binoculars back onto her worn out belt, Korra turned and dashed for the landspeeder. Halfway to the vehicle she thought to call behind to the droid. "Hurry up," she shouted impatiently. "What are you waiting for? Get it in gear." The Treadwell started toward her, hesitated, and then commenced spinning in a tight circle, smoke belching from every joint. Korra shouted further instructions, and finally gave up in disgust when she realized that it would take more than words to motivate the Treadwell again. For a moment Korra hesitated at leaving the machine behind—but, she argued to herself, its vital components were obviously shot. So she jumped into the landspeeder, causing the recently repaired repulsion floater to list alarmingly to one side until she was able to equalize weight distribution by sliding behind the controls.

Maintaining its altitude slightly above the sandy ground, the light-duty transport vehicle steadied itself like a boat in a heavy sea. Korra gunned the engine, which whined in protest, and sand erupted behind the floater as she aimed the craft toward the distant town of Anchorhead. Behind her, a pitiful beacon of black smoke from the burning Treadwell robot continued to rise into the clear desert air. It wouldn't be there when Korra returned. There were scavengers of metal as well as flesh in the wide wastes of Tatooine. Metal and stone structures bleached white by the glaze of the twin Tatoo I and II suns huddled together tightly, for company as much as for protection. They formed the nexus of the widespread farming community of Anchorhead. Presently the dusty, unpaved streets were quiet, deserted. Sandflies buzzed lazily in the cracked eaves of pour stone buildings. A dog barked in the distance, the sole sign of habitation until a lone old woman appeared and started across the street. Her metallic sun shawl was pulled tight around her. Something made her look up, tired eyes squinting into the distance.

The sound suddenly leaped in volume as a shining rectangular shape came roaring around a far corner. Her eyes popped as the vehicle bore down on her, showing no sign of altering its path. She had to scramble to get out of its way. Panting and waving an angry fist after the land-speeder, she raised her voice over the sound of its passage. "Won't you kids ever learn to slow down!" Korra might have seen her, but she certainly didn't hear her. In both cases her attention was focused elsewhere as she pulled up behind a low, long concrete station. Various coils and rods jutted from its top and sides. Tatooine's relentless sand waves broke in frozen yellow spume against the station's walls. No one had bothered to clear them away. There was no point. They would only return again the following day.

Korra slammed the front door aside and shouted, "Hey!" A rugged young man in mechanic's dress sat sprawled in a chair behind the station's unkempt control desk. Sunscreen oil had kept his skin from burning. The skin of the girl on his lap had been equally protected, and there was a great deal more of the protected area in view. Somehow even dried sweat looked good on her. "Hey, everybody!" Korra yelled again, having elicited something less than an overwhelming response with her first cry. She ran toward the instrument room at the rear of the station while the mechanic, half asleep, ran a hand across his face.

The dazed mechanic, Tahno, sleepily mumbled, "Did I hear a young noise blast through here?" The girl on his lap stretched sensuously, her well-worn clothing tugging in various intriguing directions. Her voice was casually throaty. "Oh," she yawned, "that was just Twinkle Toes on one of her rampages." Ming and Shaozu looked up from the computer-assisted pool game as Korra burst into the room. They were dressed much like Korra, although their clothing was of better fit and somewhat less exercised.

All four youths contrasted strikingly with the burly, handsome player at the far side of the table. From neatly clipped hair to his precision-cut uniform he stood out in the room like an Oriental poppy in a sea of oats. Behind the three humans a soft hum came from where a repair robot was working patiently on a broken piece of station equipment. "Shape it up, you guys," Korra yelled excitedly. Then she noticed the young man in the uniform. The subject of her suddenly startled gaze recognized her simultaneously. "Toza!"

The man's face twisted in a half grin. "Hello, Korra." Then they were embracing each other warmly.

Korra finally stood away, openly admiring the other's uniform. "I didn't know you were back. When did you get in?" The confidence in the other's voice bordered the realm of smugness without quite entering it.

"Just a little while ago. I wanted to surprise you, hotshot." Toza indicated the room. "I thought you'd be here with these other two nightcrawlers." Ming and Shaozu both smiled. "I certainly didn't expect you to be out working." He laughed easily, a laugh few people found resistible.

"The academy didn't change you much," Korra commented. "But you're back so soon." Her expression grew concerned. "Hey, what happened—didn't you get your commission?"

There was something evasive about Toza as he replied, looking slightly away, "Of course I got it. Signed on to serve aboard the freighter Rand Ecliptic just last week. First Mate Toza Darklighter, at your service." He performed a twisting salute, half serious and half humorous, then grinned that overbearing yet disarming grin again. "I just came back to say good-bye to all you unfortunate landlocked simpletons." They all laughed, until Korra suddenly remembered what had brought her here in such a hurry.

"I almost forgot," she told them, her initial excitement returning, "there's a battle going on right here in our system. Come and look."

Ming looked disappointed. "Not another one of your epic battles, Korra. Haven't you dreamed up enough of them? Forget it."

"Forget it, hell—I'm serious. It's a battle, all right." With words and shoves she managed to cajole the occupants of the station out into the strong sunlight. Mai in particular looked disgusted.

"This had better be worth it, Korra," she warned her, shading her eyes against the glare. Korra already had her macrobinoculars out and was searching the heavens. It took only a moment for her to fix on a particular spot.

"I told you," she insisted. "There they are." Toza moved alongside her and reached for the binoculars as the others strained unaided eyes.

A slight readjustment provided just enough magnification for Toza to make out two silvery specks against the dark blue. "That's no battle, hotshot," he decided, lowering the binoculars and regarding his friend gently. "They're just sitting there. Two ships, all right—probably a barge loading a freighter, since Tatooine hasn't got an orbital station."

"There was a lot of firing—earlier," Korra added. Her initial enthusiasm was beginning to falter under the withering assurance of her older friend. Mai grabbed the binoculars away from Toza, banging them slightly against a support pillar in the process. Korra took them away from her quickly, inspecting the casing for damage. "Take it easy with those."

"Don't worry so much, Twinkle Toes," she sneered. Korra took a step toward her, then halted as the huskier mechanic easily interposed himself between them and favored Korra with a warning smile. Korra considered, shrugged the incident away.

"I keep telling you, Korra," Tahno said, with the air of a man tired of repeating the same story to no avail, "the rebellion is a long way from here. I doubt if the Empire would fight to keep this system. Believe me, Tatooine is a big hunk of nothing."

Her audience began to fade back into the station before Korra could mutter a reply. Tahno had his arm around Mai, and the two of them were chuckling over Korra's ineptitude. Even Ming and Shaozu were murmuring among themselves—about her, Korra was certain. She followed them, but not without a last glance back and up to the distant specks. One thing she was sure of were the flashes of light she had seen between the two ships. They hadn't been caused by the suns of Tatooine reflecting off metal.

* * *

The binding that locked the girl's hands behind her back was primitive and effective. The constant attention the squad of heavily armed troopers favored her with might have been out of place for one small female, except for the fact that their lives depended on her being delivered safely. When she deliberately slowed her pace, however, it became apparent that her captors did not mind mistreating her a little. One of the armored figures shoved her brutally in the small of the back, and she nearly fell. Turning, she gave the offending soldier a vicious look. But she could not tell if it had any effect, since the man's face was completely hidden by his armored helmet. The hallway they eventually emerged into was still smoking around the edges of the smoldering cavity blasted through the hull of the fighter. A portable access way had been sealed to it and a circlet of light showed at the far end of the tunnel, bridging space between the rebel craft and the cruiser.

A shadow moved over her as she turned from inspecting the access way, startling her despite her usually unshakable self-control. Above her towered the threatening bulk of Darth Amon, stormy grey eyes glaring behind the hideous breath mask. A muscle twitched in one smooth cheek, but other than that the girl didn't react. Nor was there the slightest shake in her voice. "Darth Amon … I should have known. Only you would be so bold—and so stupid. Well, the Senate will not sit still for this. When they hear that you have attacked a diplomatic miss—"

"Senator Asami Sato," Amon rumbled softly, though strongly enough to override her protests. His pleasure at finding her was evident in the way he savored every syllable. "Don't play games with me, Your Highness," he continued ominously. "You aren't on any mercy mission this time. You passed directly through a restricted system, ignoring numerous warnings and completely disregarding orders to turn about—until it no longer mattered." The cold metal face dipped close. "I know that several transmissions were beamed to this vessel by spies within that system. When we traced those transmissions back to the individuals with whom they originated, they had the poor grace to kill themselves before they could be questioned. I want to know what happened to the data they sent you."

Neither Amon's words nor his hostile presence appeared to have any effect on the girl. "I don't know what you're blathering about," she snapped, looking away from him. "I'm a member of the Senate on a diplomatic mission to—"

"To your part of the rebel alliance," Amon declared, cutting her off accusingly. "You're also a traitor." His gaze went to a nearby officer. "Take her away." She succeeded in reaching him with her spit, which hissed against still-hot battle armor. He wiped the offensive matter away silently, watching her with interest as she was marched through the access way into the cruiser. A tall, slim soldier wearing the sign of an Equalist Commander attracted Amon's attention as he came up next to him.

"Holding her is dangerous," the Commander ventured, likewise looking after her as she was escorted toward the cruiser. "If word of this does get out, there will be much unrest in the Senate. It will generate sympathy for the rebels."

The Commander looked up at the unreadable metal face, then added in an offhanded manner, "She should be destroyed immediately."

"No. My first duty is to locate that hidden fortress of theirs," Amon replied easily. "All the rebel spies have been eliminated—by our hand or by their own. Therefore, she is now my only key to discovering its location. I intend to make full use of her. If necessary, I will use her up—but I will learn the location of the rebel base."

The Commander pursed his lips, shook his head slightly, perhaps a bit sympathetically, as he considered the woman. "She'll die before she gives you any information."

Amon's reply was chilling in its indifference. "Leave that to me." He considered a moment, then went on. "Send out a wide-band distress signal. Indicate that the Senator's ship encountered an unexpected meteorite cluster it could not avoid. Readings indicate that the shift shields were overridden and the ship was hulled to the point of vacating ninety-five percent of its atmosphere. Inform her father and the Senate that all aboard were killed." A cluster of tired-looking troops marched purposefully up to their Commander and the Dark Lord. Amon eyed them expectantly.

"The data tapes in question are not aboard the ship. There is no valuable information in the ship's storage banks and no evidence of bank erasure," the officer in charge recited mechanically. "Nor were any transmissions directed outward from the ship from the time we made contact. A malfunctioning lifeboat pod was ejected during the fighting, but it was confirmed at the time that no life forms were on board."

Amon appeared thoughtful. "It could have been a malfunctioning pod," he mused, "that might also have contained the tapes. Tapes are not life forms. In all probability any native finding them would be ignorant of their importance and would likely clear them for his own use. Still … "Send down a detachment to retrieve them, or to make certain they are not in the pod," he finally ordered the Commander and attentive officer. "Be as subtle as possible; there is no need to attract attention, even on this miserable outpost world." As the officer and troops departed, Amon turned his gaze back to the Commander. "Vaporize this fighter—we don't want to leave anything. As for the pod, I cannot take the chance it was a simple malfunction. The data it might contain could prove too damaging. See to this personally, Commander. If those data tapes exist, they must be retrieved or destroyed at all costs." Then he added with satisfaction, "With that accomplished and the Senator in our hands, we will see the end of this absurd rebellion."

"It shall be as you direct, Lord Amon," the Commander acknowledged. Both men entered the access way to the cruiser.

* * *

"What a forsaken place this is!" Eska turned cautiously to look back at where the pod lay half buried in sand. She felt as though her internal organs were still unsteady from the rough landing. Landing! Mere application of the term unduly flattered her dull associate. On the other hand, she supposed she ought to be grateful they had come down in one piece. Although, she mused as she studied the barren landscape, she still wasn't sure they were better off here than they would have been had they remained on the captured cruiser. High sandstone mesas dominated the skyline to one side. Every other direction showed only endless series of marching dunes like long yellow teeth stretching for kilometer on kilometer into the distance.

The ocean of sand blended into sky until it was impossible to distinguish where one ended and the other began. A faint cloud of minute dust particles rose in their wake as the two siblings marched away from the pod. That vehicle, its intended function fully discharged, was now quite useless. Neither twin had been prepped for long journeys on this kind of terrain, so they had to fight their way across the unstable surface. "We seem to have been made to suffer," Eska moaned in self-pity.

"It's a rotten existence." Desna agreed. Something cracked in his right leg and he winced. "I've got to rest before I fall apart."

Eska snorted, "YOU need to rest? I still haven't recovered from that headlong crash you called a landing." She paused thinking they would rest on the hot sand, but Desna did not. The young man performed a sharp turn and was now ambling slowly but steadily in the direction of the nearest outjut of mesa. "Hey," Eska yelled. Desna ignored the call and continued striding. "Where do you think you're going?"

Now Desna paused, looking over his shoulder as he spoke, "We can't just sit out here and wait to die in the sun…suns," He paused as he observed the dual stars hanging in the sky. "We need to find a city, or something." Eska exhaustedly walked over to join him.

"Well, I'm not going that way," Eska declared when Desna had concluded his explanation. "It's too rocky." She gestured in the direction they had been walking, at an angle away from the cliffs. "This way is much easier." A small hand waved disparagingly at the high mesas. "What makes you think there are any settlements that way, anyhow?"

A long sigh issued from within the male twin as he spoke. "Before we crashed, the pod's sensors displayed a spaceport to the East."

"Don't get technical with me," Eska warned. "I've had just about enough of your decisions." Desna huffed once. "All right, go your way," Eska announced grandly. "You'll be sandlogged within a day, you nearsighted idiot." She gave her brother a contemptuous shove, sending the boy tumbling down a slight dune. As he struggled at the bottom to regain his feet, Eska started off toward the blurred, glaring horizon, glancing back over her shoulder. "Don't let me catch you following me, begging for help," she warned, "because you won't get it."

Below the crest of the dune, the young man righted himself. He paused briefly to clean the sand from his eyes with a torn oil and blood stained sleeve. Then, he looked up the crest of the dune, to where he had tumbled, letting out a cry of rage at his sister. Humming quietly to himself then, he turned and trudged off toward the sandstone ridges as if nothing had happened.

Several hours later a straining Eska, her body dangerously approaching heat stroke, struggled up the top of what she hoped was the last towering dune. Nearby, pillars and buttresses of bleached calcium, the bones of some enormous beast, formed an unpromising landmark. Reaching the crest of the dune, Eska peered anxiously ahead. Instead of the hoped-for greenery of human civilization she saw only several dozen more dunes, identical in form and promise to the one she now stood upon. The farthest rose even higher than the one she presently surmounted. Eska turned and looked back toward the now far-off rocky plateau, which was beginning to grow indistinct with distance and heat distortion.

"You stupid little twerp," she muttered, unable even now to admit to herself that perhaps, just possibly, Desna might have been right. "This is all your fault. You tricked me into going this way, but you'll do no better." Nor would she if she didn't continue on. So she took a step forward and heard something grind dully within her knee joint.

Sitting down with a groan of fatigue, she began picking sand from her various cuts. She could continue on her present course, she told herself. Or she could confess to an error in judgment and try to catch up again with Desna. Neither prospect held much appeal for her. Beginning to feel light headed, she mused that the oasis in the distance was probably a hallucination, as was the moving object heading in her direction. No—no—it was definitely light reflecting off metal, and it WAS moving toward her. His hopes soared. Ignoring the warning pain from her damaged side, she rose to her feet and began waving frantically. It was, she saw now, definitely a vehicle, though of a type unfamiliar to her. But a vehicle it was, and that implied intelligence and technology. She neglected, in her excitement, to consider the possibility that the vehicle might not be of human origin.

* * *

"So I cut off my power, shut down the afterburners, and dropped in low on Ming's tail," Korra finished, waving her arms wildly. She and Toza were walking in the shade outside the power station. Sounds of metal being worked came from somewhere within, where Tahno had finally joined his robot assistant in performing repairs. "I was so close to him," Korra continued excitedly, "I thought I was going to fry my instrumentation. As it was, I busted up the skyhopper pretty bad." That recollection inspired a frown. "Uncle Tonraq was pretty upset. He grounded me for the rest of the season." Korra's depression was brief. Memory of her feat overrode its immorality. "You should have been there, Toza!"

"You ought to take it a little easier," her friend cautioned. "You may be the hottest bush pilot this side of Mos Eisley, Korra, but those little skyhoppers can be dangerous. They move awfully fast for tropospheric craft—faster than they need to. Keep playing engine jockey with one and someday, whammo!" He slammed one fist violently into his open palm. "You're going to be nothing more than a dark spot on the damp side of a canyon wall."

"Look who's talking," Korra retorted. "Now that you've been on a few big, automatic starships you're beginning to sound like my uncle. You've gotten soft in the cities." She swung spiritedly at Toza, who blocked the movement easily, making a halfhearted gesture of counterattack.

Toza's easygoing smugness dissolved into something warmer. "I've missed you, kid."

Korra looked away, embarrassed. "Things haven't exactly been the same since you left, either, Toza. It's been so—" Korra hunted for the right word and finally finished helplessly, "—so quiet." Her gaze traveled across the sandy, deserted streets of Anchorhead. "It's always been quiet, really." Toza grew silent, thinking. He glanced around. They were alone out here. Everyone else was back inside the comparative coolness of the power station. As he leaned close, Korra sensed an unaccustomed solemnness in her friend's tone.

"Korra, I didn't come back just to say good-bye, or to crow over everyone because I got through the Academy." Again he seemed to hesitate, unsure of himself. Then he blurted out rapidly, not giving himself a chance to back down, "But I want somebody to know. I can't tell my parents."

Gaping at Toza, Korra could only gulp, "Know what? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the talking that's been going on at the Academy—and other places, Korra. Strong talking. I made some new friends, out-system friends. We agreed about the way certain things are developing, and—" his voice dropped conspiratorially—"when we reach one of the peripheral systems, we're going to jump ship and join the Alliance."

Korra stared back at her friend, tried to picture Toza—fun-loving, happy-go-lucky, live-for-today Toza—as a patriot afire with rebellious fervor. "You're going to join the rebellion?" she started. "You've got to be kidding. How?"

"Damp down, will you?" the young man cautioned, glancing furtively back toward the power station. "You've got a mouth like a crater."

"I'm sorry," Korra whispered rapidly. "I'm quiet—listen how quiet I am. You can barely hear me —"

Toza cut her off and continued. "A friend of mine from the Academy has a friend on Bestine who might enable us to make contact with an armed rebel unit."

"A friend of a—You're crazy," Korra announced with conviction, certain her friend had gone mad. "You could wander around forever trying to find a real rebel outpost. Most of them are only myths. This twice removed friend could be an Equalist agent. You'd end up on Kessel, or worse. If rebel outposts were so easy to find, the Empire would have wiped them out years ago."

"I know it's a long shot," Toza admitted reluctantly. "If I don't contact them, then"—a peculiar light came into Toza's eyes, a conglomeration of newfound maturity and … something else—"I'll do what I can, on my own." He stared intensely at his friend. "Korra, I'm not going to wait for the Empire to conscript me into its service. In spite of what you hear over the official information channels, the rebellion is growing, spreading. And I want to be on the right side—the side I believe in." His voice altered unpleasantly, and Korra wondered what he saw in his mind's eye. "You should have heard some of the stories I've heard, Korra, learned of some of the outrages I've learned about. The Empire may have been great and beautiful once, but the people in charge now—" He shook his head sharply. "It's rotten, Korra, rotten."

"And I can't do a damn thing," Korra muttered morosely. "I'm stuck here." She kicked futilely at the ever-present sand of Anchorhead.

"I thought you were going to enter the Academy soon," Toza observed. "If that's so, then you'll have your chance to get off this sandpile."

Korra snorted derisively. "Not likely. I had to withdraw my application." She looked away, unable to meet her friend's disbelieving stare. "I had to. There's been a lot of unrest among the sandpeople since you left, Toza. They've even raided the outskirts of Anchorhead."

Toza shook his head, disregarding the excuse. "Your uncle could hold off a whole colony of raiders with one blaster."

"From the house, sure," Korra agreed, "but Uncle Tonraq's finally got enough vaporators installed and running to make the farm pay off big. But he can't guard all that land by himself, and he says he needs me for one more season. I can't run out on him now."

Toza sighed sadly. "I feel for you, Korra. Someday you're going to have to learn to separate what seems to be important from what really is important." He gestured around them. "What good is all your uncle's work if it's taken over by the Empire? I've heard that they're starting to imperialize commerce in all the outlying systems. It won't be long before your uncle and everyone else on Tatooine are just tenants slaving for the greater glory of the Empire."

"That couldn't happen here," Korra objected with a confidence she didn't quite feel. "You've said it yourself—the Empire won't bother with this rock."

"Things change, Korra. Only the threat of rebellion keeps many in power from doing certain unmentionable things. If that threat is completely removed—well, there are two things men have never been able to satisfy: their curiosity and their greed. There isn't much the high Equalist bureaucrats are curious about."

Both friends stood silent. A sandwhirl traversed the street in silent majesty, collapsing against a wall to send newborn baby zephyrs in all directions. "I wish I was going with you," Korra finally murmured. She glanced up. "Will you be around long?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I'm leaving in the morning to rendezvous with the Ecliptic."

"Then I guess … I won't be seeing you again."

"Maybe someday," Toza declared. He brightened, grinning that disarming grin. "I'll keep a look out for you, hotshot. Try not to run into any canyon walls in the meantime."

"I'll be at the Academy the season after," Korra insisted, more to encourage herself than Toza. "After that, who knows where I'll end up?" She sounded determined. "I won't be drafted into the starfleet, that's for sure. Take care of yourself. You'll … always be the best friend I've got." There was no need for a handshake. These two had long since passed beyond that.

"So long, then, Korra," Toza said simply. He turned and reentered the power station. Korra watched him disappear through the door, her own thoughts as chaotic and frenetic as one of Tatooine's spontaneous dust storms.

* * *

There were any number of extraordinary features unique to Tatooine's surface. Outstanding among them were the mysterious mists which rose regularly from the ground at the points where desert sands washed up against unyielding cliffs and mesas. Fog in a steaming desert seemed as out of place as cactus on a glacier, but it existed nonetheless. Meteorologists and geologists argued its origin among themselves, muttering hard-to-believe theories about water suspended in sandstone veins beneath the sand and incomprehensible chemical reactions which made water rise when the ground cooled, then fall underground again with the double sunrise. It was all very backward and very real. Neither the mist nor the alien moans of nocturnal desert dwellers troubled Desna, however, as he made his careful way up the rocky channel, hunting for the easiest pathway to the mesa top. His squarish, broad footpads made shuffling sounds loud in the evening light as sand underfoot gave way gradually to gravel. For a moment, he paused. He seemed to detect a noise—like metal on rock—ahead of him, instead of rock on rock. The sound wasn't repeated, though, and he quickly resumed his ambling ascent.

Up the crevice, too far up to be seen from below, a pebble trickled loose from the stone wall. The tiny figure which had accidentally dislodged the pebble retreated mouse-like into shadow. Two glowing points of light showed under overlapping folds of brown cape a meter from the narrowing canyon wall. Only the reaction of the unsuspecting twin indicated the presence of the whining beam as it struck him. For a moment, Desna fluoresced eerily in the dimming light, as though thin braids of electricity were working their way around his body. There was a single short squeak from Desna's lips, and then his paralyzed body became unbalanced and he toppled over onto his back. Three robed figures, reminiscent of very short men, scurried out from behind concealing boulders. Their motions were more indicative of rodent than humankind, though, and they stood only as high as Desna's waist would have been, had he been standing. When they saw that the single burst of enervating energy had immobilized the boy, they holstered their peculiar weapons.

Nevertheless, they approached the listless human cautiously, with the trepidation of hereditary cowards. Their cloaks were thickly coated with dust and sand. Unhealthy red-yellow pupils glowed catlike from the depths of their hoods as they studied their captive. The jawas, as their kind was known, conversed in low guttural croaks and scrambled analogs of human speech. If, as anthropologists hypothesized, they had ever been human, they had long since degenerated past anything resembling the human race. Several more jawas appeared, and together they succeeded in alternately hoisting and dragging the unconscious Desna back down the crevice. At the bottom of the canyon—like some monstrous prehistoric beast—was a sandcrawler, as enormous as its owners and operators were tiny. Several dozen meters high, the vehicle towered above the ground on multiple treads that were taller than a tall man. Its metal epidermis was battered and pitted from withstanding untold sandstorms. On reaching the crawler, the jawas resumed jabbering among themselves. Desna could hear them but failed to comprehend anything. He need not have been embarrassed at his failure. If they so wished, only jawas could understand other jawas, for they employed a randomly variable language that drove linguists mad. One of them removed a small pair of restraining cuffs from a belt pouch and attached them to Desna's hands, and the jawas then proceeded to carry his limp body into their caravan. This part of the job completed, the jawas engaged in another bout of jabbering, following which they scurried into the crawler via tubes and ladders, for all the world like a nest of mice returning to their holes.

None too gently, the group of jawas deposited Desna into a small cubicle. In addition to varied piles of broken instruments and outright scrap, a dozen or so robots of differing shapes and sizes populated the prison. A few were locked in electronic conversation. Others muddled aimlessly about. But when Desna tumbled into the chamber, one voice burst out in surprise. "Desna—it's you, it's you!" called an excited Eska from the near darkness. She made her way over to the still immobilized sibling and embraced him in a show of affection uncommon for the duo. Spotting the rusted pair cuffs encircling Desna's wrists, Eska turned her gaze to the pair around her own wrists; the connecting chain between them had broken as she was shoved onto the floor of the sandcrawler. Massive gears, poorly lubricated, started to move. With a groaning and grinding, the monstrous vehicle turned and lumbered with relentless patience into the desert night.


	3. Chapter 3: A Chance Meeting Pt 2

Chapter 3: A Chance Meeting Pt 2

* * *

The burnished conference table was as soulless and unyielding as the mood of the eight Equalist Senators and officers ranged around it. Equalist troopers stood guard at the entrance to the chamber, which was sparse and coldly lit from lights in the table and wails. One of the youngest of the eight was declaiming. He exhibited the attitude of one who had climbed far and fast by methods best not examined too closely. General Zolt did possess a certain twisted genius, but it was only partly that ability which had lifted him to his present exalted position. Other noisome talents had proven equally efficacious. Though his uniform was as neatly molded and his body as clean as that of anyone else in the room, none of the remaining seven cared to touch him. A certain sliminess clung cloyingly to him, a sensation inferred rather than tactile. Despite this, many respected him. Or feared him. "I tell you, he's gone too far this time," the General was insisting vehemently. "This Sith Lord inflicted on us at the urging of the Emperor will be our undoing. Until the battle station is fully operational, we remain vulnerable. "Some of you still don't seem to realize how well equipped and organized the rebel Alliance is. Their vessels are excellent, their pilots better. And they are propelled by something more powerful than mere engines: this perverse, reactionary fanaticism of theirs. They're more dangerous than most of you realize."

An older officer, with facial scars so deeply engraved that even the best cosmetic surgery could not fully repair them, shifted nervously in his chair. "Dangerous to your starfleet, General Zolt, but not to this battle station." Wizened eyes hopped from man to man, traveling around the table. "I happen to think Lord Amon knows what he's doing. The rebellion will continue only as long as those cowards have a sanctuary, a place where their pilots can relax and their machines can be repaired."

Zolt objected. "I beg to differ with you, Viper. I think the construction of this station has more to do with Governor Tarrlok's bid for personal power and recognition than with any justifiable military strategy. Within the Senate the rebels will continue to increase their support as long—" The sound of the single doorway sliding aside and the guards snapping to attention cut him off.

His head turned as did everyone else's. Two individuals as different in appearance as they were united in objectives had entered the chamber. The nearest to Zolt was a large man with a chiseled, harsh expression, and brown hair pulled away from his face. He stood stiffly in his pressed, unwrinkled uniform, looking severely unimpressed as he gazed about the room. The Grand General Tarrlok, Governor of numerous outlying Equalist territories, was dwarfed only by the broad, armored bulk of Lord Darth Amon. Zolt, unintimidated but subdued, slowly resumed his seat as Tarrlok assumed his place at the end of the conference table.

Amon stood next to him, a dominating presence behind the Grand General's chair. For a minute Tarrlok stared directly at Zolt, then glanced away as if he had seen nothing. Zolt fumed but remained silent. As Tarrlok's gaze roved around the table a razor-thin smile of satisfaction remained frozen in his features. "The Equalist Senate will no longer be of any concern to us, gentlemen. I have just received word that the Emperor has permanently dissolved that misguided body." A ripple of astonishment ran through the assembly. "The last remnants," Tarrlok continued, "of the Old Republic have finally been swept away."

"This is impossible," Zolt interjected. "How will the Emperor maintain control of the Equalist bureaucracy?"

"Senatorial representation has not been formally abolished, you must understand," Tarrlok explained. "It has merely been superseded for the—" he smiled a bit more—"duration of the emergency. Regional Governors will now have direct control and a free hand in administering their territories. This means that the Equalist presence can at last be brought to bear properly on the vacillating worlds of the Empire. From now on, fear will keep potentially traitorous local governments in line. Fear of the Equalist fleet—and fear of this battle station."

"And what of the existing rebellion?" Zolt wanted to know. "If the rebels somehow managed to gain access to a complete technical schema of this battle station, it is remotely possible that they might be able to locate a weakness susceptible to minor exploitation."

Tarrlok's smile shifted to a smirk. "Of course, we all know how well guarded, how carefully protected, such vital data is. It could not possibly fall into rebel hands."

"The technical data to which you are obliquely referring," rumbled Darth Amon angrily, "will soon be back in our hands. If—"

Tarrlok shook the Dark Lord off, something no one else at the table would have dared to do. "It is immaterial. Any attack made against this station by the rebels would be a suicidal gesture, suicidal and useless—regardless of any information they managed to obtain. After many long years of secretive construction," he declared with evident pleasure, "this station has become the decisive force in this part of the universe. Events in this region of the galaxy will no longer be determined by fate, by decree, or by any other agency. They will be decided by this station!"

A huge metal-clad hand gestured slightly, and one of the filled cups on the table drifted responsively into it. With a slightly admonishing tone the Dark Lord continued. "Don't become too proud of this technological terror you've spawned, Tarrlok. The ability to destroy a city, a world, a whole system is still insignificant when set against the force."

" 'The Force,' " Zolt sneered. "Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways, Lord Amon. Your sad devotion to that ancient mythology has not helped you to conjure up those stolen tapes, or gifted you with clairvoyance sufficient to locate the rebels' hidden fortress. Why, it's enough to make one laugh fit to—"

Zolt's eyes abruptly bulged and his hands went to his throat as he began to turn a disconcerting shade of blue. "I find," Amon ventured mildly, "this lack of faith disturbing."

"Enough of this," Tarrlok snapped, distressed. "Amon, release him. This bickering among ourselves is pointless." Amon shrugged as if it were of no consequence. Zolt slumped in his seat, rubbing his throat, his wary gaze never leaving the dark giant. "Lord Amon will provide us with the location of the rebel fortress by the time this station is certified operational," Tarrlok declared. "That known, we will proceed to it and destroy it utterly, crushing this pathetic rebellion in one swift stroke."

"As the Emperor wills it," Amon added, not without sarcasm, "so shall it be." If any of the powerful men seated around the table found this disrespectful tone objectionable, a glance at Zolt was sufficient to dissuade them from mentioning it.

* * *

The dim prison reeked of rancid oil and stale lubricants, a veritable metallic charnel house. Eska endured the discomfiting atmosphere as best she could. It was a constant battle to avoid being thrown by every unexpected bounce into the walls or into a broken machine. To conserve energy—and also to avoid the steady stream of complaints from her companion —Desna had fallen into a shallow sleep. He lay inert among a pile of secondary parts, sublimely unconcerned at the moment as to their fate. "Will this never end?" Eska was moaning as another violent jolt roughly jostled the inhabitants of the prison. She had already formulated and discarded half a hundred horrible ends. She was certain only that their eventual disposition was sure to be worse than anything she could imagine. Then, quite without warning, something more unsettling than even the most battering bump took place. The sand-crawler's whine died, and the vehicle came to a halt—almost as if in response to Eska's query. A nervous buzz rose from those mechanicals who still retained a semblance of sentience as they speculated on their present location and probable fate. At least Eska was no longer ignorant of her captors or of their likely motives. Local captives had explained the nature of the quasi-human mechanic migrants, the jawas.

The jawas, traveling in their enormous mobile fortress-homes, they scoured the most inhospitable regions of Tatooine in search of valuable minerals—and salvageable machinery. They had never been seen outside of their protective cloaks and sand-masks, so no one knew exactly what they looked like. But they were reputed to be extraordinarily ugly. Eska did not have to be convinced. Leaning over her still-motionless companion, she began a steady shaking of Desna's torso. Roused by the movement, Desna slowly opened his eyes as he awakened. "Wake up, wake up," Eska urged. "We've stopped someplace." Like several of the more imaginative robots, her eyes were warily scanning metal walls, expecting a hidden panel to slide aside at any moment and a giant mechanical arm to come probing and fumbling for her.

"No doubt about it, we're doomed," Desna added, righting himself and returning to full awareness. "Do you think they'll kill us?" He became silent for several minutes, then added, "It's this waiting that gets to me."

Abruptly the far wall of the chamber slid aside and the blinding white glare of a Tatooine morning rushed in on them. Eska's sensitive eyes were hard pressed to adjust in time to prevent being temporarily blinded.

Several of the repulsive-looking jawas scrambled agilely into the chamber, still dressed in the same swathings and filth Eska had observed on them before. Using hand weapons of an unknown design, they prodded at the machines and bodies. A few of them, Eska noted with a mental swallow, did not stir. Ignoring the immobile ones, the jawas herded those still capable of movement outside, Desna and Eska among them. Both humans found themselves amongst worn out droids, part of an uneven mechanical line. Shielding her eyes against the glare, Eska saw that five of them were arranged alongside the huge sandcrawler. Thoughts of escape did not enter her mind. She knew they would either be recaptured, or die out in the burning dunes. Instead, she studied the small domes and vaporators that indicated the presence of a larger underground human homestead. Though she was unfamiliar with this particular type of construction, all signs pointed to a modest, if isolated, habitation. Thoughts of being dismembered or slaving in some high-temperature mine slowly faded. Her spirits rose correspondingly.

"Maybe this won't be so bad after all," Desna murmured hopefully. "If we can convince these bipedal vermin to unload us here, we may enter into sensible human society instead of being turned into slaves."

Eska's sole reply was a noncommittal shrug. Both twins became silent as the jawas commenced scurrying around them, striving to straighten one poor machine with a badly bent spine, to disguise a dent or scrape with liquid and dust. Apparently hygiene was unknown among the jawas,but she was certain no good would come of pointing this out to them. Small insects drifted in clouds about the faces of the jawas, who ignored them. Apparently the tiny individualized plagues were regarded as just a different sort of appendage, like an extra arm or leg. So intent was Eska on her observation that she failed to notice the two figures moving toward them from the region of the largest dome. Desna had to nudge her slightly before she looked up.

The first man wore an air of grim, semi-perpetual exhaustion, sandblasted into his face by too many years of arguing with a hostile environment. His dark, brown hair was frozen in tangled twists like gypsum helicites, pulled back behind his ears. Dust frosted his face, clothes, hands, and thoughts. But the body, if not the spirit, was still powerful. Proportionately dwarfed by her uncle's wrestler-like body, Korra strode slump-shouldered in his shadow, her present attitude one of dejection rather than exhaustion. She had a great deal on her mind, and it had very little to do with farming. Mostly, it involved the rest of her life, and the commitment made by her best friend who had recently departed beyond the blue sky above to enter a harsher, yet more rewarding career.

The muscular man stopped before the assembly and entered into a peculiar squeaky dialogue with the jawa in charge. When they wished it, the jawas could be understood. Korra stood nearby, listening indifferently. Then she shuffled along behind her uncle as the latter began inspecting the five machines, pausing only to mutter an occasional word or two to his niece. It was hard to pay attention, even though she knew she ought to be learning. She was too busy gazing at the two humans stood among the robots, hands bound in front of them.

"Korra—oh, Korra!" a voice called. Turning away from the conversation, which consisted of the lead jawa extolling the unmatched virtues of all five machines and her uncle countering with derision, Korra walked over to the near edge of the subterranean courtyard and peered down. A small woman with the expression of a misplaced sparrow was busy working among decorative plants. She looked up at her. "Be sure and tell Tonraq that if he buys a translator to make sure it speaks Bocce, Korra." Turning, Korra looked back over her shoulder and studied the motley collection of tired machines.

"It looks like we don't have much of a choice," she called back down to her Aunt, "but I'll remind him anyway." Aunt Senna nodded up at her and she turned to rejoin her uncle. Apparently Tonraq Lars had already come to a decision, having settled on a small semi-agricultural robot. At an order it had stepped out of the line and was wobbling along behind Tonraq and the temporarily subdued jawa.

Proceeding to the end of the line, the farmer's eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the pair of siblings. "What did you do to end up here?" He grumbled. "You don't look like the standard slaves these thieves deal with – though you do look pretty beat up."

"How observant." Eska huffed, annoyed with the burly man in front of her.

"What my sister means is, can you get us out of here?" Desna asked, hoping his twins insulting tone wouldn't cost them their freedom. "We aren't slaves, we just got lost in the desert and these creatures kidnapped us."

"Lost in the desert, with no gear? Exactly what were you doing –"

Tonraq was cut off by his niece as Korra stepped forward, "Of course we can help you, right Uncle? You can stay with us until you can figure out how to get to your destination – somehow I don't think you intended to stray out here." As Korra had been silently observing the siblings, she had noticed a few things. One, they don't look like they'd ever set foot in the desert before now, so they couldn't be from around here; and second, while torn, bloodied, and dirty, their clothing still looked like those worn by the rebellion soldiers. She figured that she _was_ right about the battle, and that somehow these two had wound up on the planet in the aftermath.

Tonraq sighed, and studied the eager expression of his young niece, "Alright. I'll negotiate your release, but while you stay with us you'll have to work off what it costs me to buy you."

"Understood, sir, that is a fair request." Desna commented, ready to be away from the Force forsaken sandcrawler. Eska remained silent, which her brother was thankful for.

"Korra," Tonraq turned to her, "take them and this droid to the farm. I expect the droid to be cleaned up by supper, and these two are your responsibility for the time being, so don't expect to be going off with your friends tonight, especially after you took off to see them this afternoon. "

"But I was going into Tosche station to pick up some new power converters and …"

"Don't lie to me, Korra," her uncle warned him sternly. "I don't mind you wasting time with your idle friends, but only after you've finished your chores. Now hop to it—and before supper, mind. And make sure these two…" He looked to the twins expectantly.

"Desna, and Eska, Sir." Desna answered, gesturing between himself and his sister.

"Right, make sure Desna and Eska stay out of trouble." Tonraq then turned away and head over to deal with the jawas.

Downcast, Korra directed her words irritably to Desna, Eska, and the small agricultural robot. She knew better than to argue with her uncle. "Follow me, you three." They started for the garage as Tonraq entered into price negotiations with the jawa while the other jawas were leading the four remaining machines back into the sandcrawler. Eska started to say something, considered the circumstances and thought better of it. Instead, she remained silent, staring straight ahead.

Korra had led the two diplomats and the robot toward an opening in the dry ground. A few seconds later they were striding down a ramp kept clear of drifting sand by electrostatic repellers. "Don't you ever forget this," Desna muttered to Eska, leaning towards her. "Why I stick my neck out for you, when all you ever bring me is trouble, is beyond my capacity to comprehend." The passage widened into the garage proper, which was cluttered with tools and sections of farming machinery. Many looked heavily used, some to the point of collapse. But the lights were comforting to both rebels after their time in the sandcrawler, and there was a hominess to the chamber which hinted at a tranquillity not experienced by either twin for a long time.

Near the center of the garage was a large tub, and the aroma drifting from it made nose scrunch up in distaste. Korra grinned, noting the female's reaction. "It's an oil lubrication bath." She eyed the caramel skinned girl appraisingly. "And from the looks of it, you've never been around a droid repair shop before. What did you two do before ending up here? Slaves around here are only good for droid maintenance" Korra turned her attention to Desna, since he seemed the most willing to answer questions.

Desna shifted the weight from his injured leg, and looked over at his sister. Her expression offered no indication what the proper protocol would be, so he figured he would tell Korra the truth – or at least, some of it. "Well…we were onboard a freighter outside your atmosphere. The ship experienced some difficulty, and we had to abandon ship via an escape pod. Seems like our aim wasn't too great, since we ended up in the middle of nowhere." He shrugged, hoping that would sate the young woman's curiosity.

Suddenly Korra's face lit up with a large, lopsided grin, her crystal blue eyes gleaming with excitement. "Was your ship attacked? Was it the Equalists? Where you on a mission?" Her rapid fire interrogation ended with bated breath as she stared expectantly at the male rebel, hoping to hear a story of deep space war and heroic resistance against the Equalist Empire.

"I…well –" Desna was cut off abruptly

"Yes, we were on a peaceful diplomatic mission. The Equalists attacked us, unprovoked, and now we must find a way back to Alderaan. Do you think you could help us?" Eska looked hopefully to the young moisture farmer, whose mouth was hung open in shock.

"Are you kidding? A chance to help secret rebel diplomats? Of COURSE I'll help you!" Korra shouted, elated at some excitement finally making its way into her life.

"Hold on there, lower your voice, you can't let anybody know who we are," Desna cautioned, "Okay?"

Korra settled down, ceasing her happy jumping "Okay, I mean, of course. No one will know." She pulled a serious face, eyes narrowing as she looked side to side, and leant in towards the twins, "I've always wanted to be a spy." She then winked, and turned to exit the garage, while Desna and Eska could only roll their eyes.

"You two behave yourselves, you can have a rest in here" Korra looked back at the pair, speaking to them as she moved to a small two-man skyhopper. A powerful little suborbital spacecraft, it rested in the hangar section of the garage-workshop. "I've got work of my own to do."

Unfortunately, Korra's energies were still focused on her farewell encounter with Toza, and the information presented by the new "farmhands", so that many hours later than intended, she had finished only a few of her chores. Thinking about her friend's departure, Korra was running a caressing hand over the damaged port fin of the 'hopper—the fin she had damaged while running down an imaginary Equalist Tie fighter in the wrenching twists and turns of a narrow canyon. That was when the projecting ledge had clipped her as effectively as an energy beam. Abruptly something came to a boil within her. With atypical violence she threw a power wrench across a worktable nearby. "It just isn't fair!" she declared to no one in particular. Her voice dropped disconsolately. "Toza is right. I'll never get out of here. He's planning rebellion against the Empire, and I'm trapped on a blight of a farm."

"I beg your pardon… Korra, was it?" Korra spun, startled, but it was only the stoic twin, Eska. The contrast in the twin's behavior, compared with Korra's initial sight of her, was noticeably more relaxed. It seemed the battered girl needed only a few hours of rest to become less frigid. "Is there anything I might do to help?" the rebel asked solicitously. Korra studied the girl, and as she did so some of her anger drained away. There was no point in yelling cryptically at someone who had no hand in her problems.

"I doubt it," she replied, "unless you can alter time and speed up the harvest. Or else teleport me off this sandpile under Uncle Tonraq's nose."

Sarcasm seemed to be Eska's language of choice, as her emotionless visage was cracked by a slight smirk. She considered the question objectively before finally replying, "I don't think so. I'm not sure anyone can." Suddenly, the events of the past couple of days seemed to catch up with her all at once. "As a matter of fact," Eska went on while looking around her with fresh vision, "I'm not even sure how my brother and I will be able to get off of this rock. We're a long way from where we need to be"

Korra chuckled sardonically and assumed a mocking pose. "If there's a bright center to this universe, you're on the world farthest from it."

"Yes, that is as much as I've gathered during my time here." Eska looked thoughtfully at the other girl. "You know, if you loathe this planet as much as I've come to, maybe you should seek passage away from this world, with Desna and I when we leave. I can't promise much, but I'm sure you could find employment within our…establishment."

"You mean, become a rebel?" Korra chuckled as she leant back against her workstation. "I have considered it, I won't lie. One of my closest friends recently departed, in search of a rebel base to join up with, and ever since Old Tenzin told me his stories of the clone war –"

"Tenzin? Tenzin…Kenobi, perchance?" Desna had quietly entered the room as Korra and Eska where talking, content to listen, until a particular name jumped out at him.

"Uh…yes, I think that is his last name. We only ever call him Old Tenzin though. He's a hermit, out in the dunes. Never comes to town much anymore. Rumors used to say he was a sorcerer," Korra brought a hand to her chin, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Why?"

Eska narrowed her eyes at her brother, knowing he was hiding something. "Yes, Brother, why are you interested in this…Tenzin?"

Desna rolled his eyes at his sister, knowing that she would hold it against him for not sharing the information he had received. Normally, they shared everything, but in the chaos exploding around them on the ship, he neglected to explain who he had met, and what had been asked of him. "A fellow diplomat, aboard our ship, mentioned his name. She said he would be able to help us, should the need arise."

"And how do you know that Old Tenzin is the right guy?" Korra asked, unsure of how the old recluse could factor in to any part of the rebellion.

Desna shrugged, "I don't, but it is an uncommon name. I think it would be worth it to check it out."

A voice from down a corridor interrupted any further conversation between the trio. "Korra … oh, Korra—come to dinner, and bring Desna and Eska!" Korra hesitated, then rose and turned away from the silent twins.

"Okay," she called, "We're coming, Aunt Senna!" She lowered her voice as she spoke to the siblings "We can figure out this business with Tenzin after supper." Then she walked out of the chamber, the stoic twins in tow.


	4. Chapter 4: Her First Adventure

Chapter 4: Her First Adventure

* * *

Korra's aunt Senna was filling a pitcher with blue liquid from a refrigerated container. Behind her, in the dining area, a steady buzz of conversation reached to the kitchen. She sighed sadly. The mealtime discussions between her husband and Korra had grown steadily more acrimonious as the girl's restlessness pulled her in directions other than farming. Directions for which Tonraq, a stolid man of the soil if there ever was one, had absolutely no sympathy.

Returning the bulk container to the refrigerator unit, she placed the pitcher on a tray and hurried back to the dining room. Senna possessed an instinctive understanding of her important position in this household. She functioned like the damping rods in a nuclear reactor. As long as she was present, Tonraq and Korra would continue to generate a lot of heat, but if she was out of their presence for too long—boom!

Condenser units built into the bottom of each plate kept the food on the dining-room table hot as she hurried in. Immediately, Tonraq and Korra lowered their voices to something civilized and shifted the subject. Senna pretended not to notice the change.

"Desna and Eska say the jawas kidnapped them, Uncle Tonraq," Korra was saying, as if that had been the topic of conversation all along. She looked over to the twins, whom quickly nodded their heads in agreement. Her uncle helped himself to the milk pitcher, mumbling his reply around a mouthful of food.

"The jawas have a tendency to pick up anything that's not tied down, Korra, but remember, they're basically afraid of their own shadows. I can't imagine what would bring them to outright kidnapping, they'd have to have considered the consequences of being pursued and punished. Theoretically, their minds shouldn't be capable of that." He paused, swallowing before glancing at the siblings. "But, you two don't look like slaves…so, I wonder what prompted them to grab you from the sand."

"Anyway, they need to find someone who can help them finish their miss—" Korra tried to conceal her horror at the slip. Desna and Eska shared a sidelong glance, both noting that despite her insistence, Korra was _not_ a creature of subtlety. It was almost endearing. _Almost_. The younger farmer added hastily, "But that's not important." Thinking up a quick fib, she continued with the question that had burning in the back of her mind, "Toza visited today before heading… back to the Academy. He had mentioned that a few of the students where sharing old war stories, and they spoke of a man named Tenzin Kenobi. That wouldn't happen to be Old Tenzin, the hermit, would it?"

Maybe something in the food, or perhaps the milk, caused Korra's uncle to gag. Then again, it might have been an expression of disgust, which was Tonraq's way of indicating his opinion of that peculiar personage. In any case, he continued eating without looking up at his niece. Korra pretended the display of graphic dislike had never happened.

The two rebels looked at each other, but remained silent. They knew that nothing they could add to the conversation would be helpful, and would only raise questions as to how they knew who Tenzin was when they were supposedly new to the planet. When her uncle steadfastly maintained his silence, Korra prompted him directly. "Do you know who he's talking about, Uncle Tonraq?" Surprisingly, her uncle looked uncomfortable instead of angry.

"It's nothing," he mumbled, still not meeting Korra's gaze. "A name from another time." He squirmed nervously in his seat. "A name that can only mean trouble."

Korra refused to heed the implied warning and pressed on. "Is it someone related to Old Tenzin, then? I didn't know he had any relatives."

"You stay away from that old wizard, you hear me!" her uncle exploded, awkwardly substituting threat for reason.

"Tonraq …" Aunt Senna started to interject gently, but the big farmer cut her off sternly.

"No, this is important, Senna." He turned his attention back to his niece. "I've told you about Kenobi before. He's a crazy old man; he's dangerous and full of mischief, and he's best left well alone." Senna's pleading gaze caused him to quiet somewhat. "Those stories have nothing to do with him. Couldn't have," he grumbled half to himself.

"And don't even think about going off to find that old hermit to ask him yourself. I don't think that Kenobi man exists anymore. He died about the same time as your father." A huge mouthful of hot food was shoveled inward. "Now forget about it."

"Then it was a real person," Korra murmured, staring down at her plate. She added slowly, "Did he know my father?"

"I said forget about it," Tonraq snapped. "Your only worry as far as I'm concerned, is dealing with these two here." He gestured towards Desna and Eska, whom were quite finished with the awkward meal.

Revoking his earlier condition in favor of his life returning to normal, Tonraq issued an order. "Tomorrow I want you to take these two into Anchorhead and see about finding them a way home." Ending the previous conversation with a tone of finality, Tonraq bent to his half-eaten meal with determination.

"Uncle, I—" She hesitated, shooting her uncle a surreptitious glare. "I was thinking about our agreement about me staying on for another season." Her uncle failed to react, so Korra rushed on before her nerve failed. "I want to transmit my application to enter the Academy for next year."

Tonraq scowled, trying to hide his displeasure with food. "You mean, you want to transmit the application next year—after the harvest."

"You have more than enough droids now, and they're in good condition. They'll last."

" Droids, yes," his uncle agreed, "but droids can't replace a person, Korra. You know that. The harvest is when I need you the most. It's just for one more season after this one." He looked away, bluster and anger gone now. Korra toyed with her food, not eating, saying nothing. "Listen," her uncle told her, "for the first time we've got a chance for a real fortune. We'll make enough to hire some extra hands for next time. Not droids—people. Then you can go to the Academy." Tonraq fumbled over his words, unaccustomed to pleading. "I need you here, Korra. You understand that, don't you?"

"But it's another year," his niece objected sullenly. "Another year." How many times had she heard that before? How many times had they repeated this identical charade with the same result?

Convinced once more that Korra had come around to his way of thinking, Tonraq shrugged the objection off. "Time will pass before you know it." Abruptly Korra rose, shoving her barely touched plate of food aside. "That's what you said last year when Toza left." She spun and half ran from the room.

"Where are you going, Korra?" her aunt yelled worriedly after her.

Korra's reply was bleak, bitter. "Looks like I'm going nowhere." Then she added, out of consideration for his aunt's sensibilities, "I have to finish cleaning that new droid if it's going to be ready to work tomorrow while I'm in Anchorhead."

Silence hung in the air of the dining room after Korra departed. Husband and wife ate mechanically.

"Thank you for the meal, Miss. Lars, but I think my brother and I would like to turn in for the night." Eska spoke, breaking the tension briefly.

Tonraq and Senna looked up at the two in surprise, almost as if they had forgotten that the siblings were there. "Uh—yes, of course. There are bunks out in the shop, where Korra had taken you earlier. Have a good night." Senna spoke gently, almost apologetically as though to make up for the disastrous meal.

The two diplomats hurried from the room, leaving the farmers to their thoughts. Eventually Aunt Senna stopped shoving her food around her plate, looked up, and pointed out earnestly, "Tonraq, you can't keep her here forever. Most of her friends are gone, the people she grew up with. The Academy means so much to her."

Listlessly her husband replied, "I'll make it up to her next year. I promise. We'll have money—or maybe, the year after that."

"Korra's just not a farmer, Tonraq," she continued firmly. "She never will be, no matter how hard you try to make her one." She shook her head slowly. "She's got too much of her father in her."

For the first time all evening Tonraq Lars looked thoughtful as well as concerned as he gazed down the passage Korra had taken. "That's what I'm afraid of," he whispered.

* * *

Korra had gone topside. She stood on the sand watching the double sunset as first one and then the other of Tatooine's twin suns sank slowly behind the distant range of dunes. In the fading light the sands turned gold, russet, and flaming red-orange before advancing night put the bright colors to sleep for another day. Soon, for the first time, those sands would blossom with food plants.

This former wasteland would see an eruption of green. The thought ought to have sent a thrill of anticipation through Korra. She should have been as flushed with excitement as her uncle was whenever he described the coming harvest. Instead, Korra felt nothing but a vast indifferent emptiness. Not even the prospect of having a lot of money for the first time in her life excited her. What was there to do with money in Anchorhead—anywhere on Tatooine, for that matter? Part of her, an increasingly large part, was growing more and more restless at remaining unfulfilled. This was not an uncommon feeling in youths her age, but for reasons Korra did not understand it was much stronger in her than in any of her friends.

As the night cold came creeping over the sand and up her legs, she brushed the grit from her dark blue trousers and descended into the garage. Maybe working on some of the droids would bury some of the remorse a little deeper in her mind. A quick survey of the chamber showed no movement. Neither of the twins were in sight. Frowning slightly, Korra took a small control box from her belt and activated a couple of switches set into the plastic. A low hum came from the box. The caller produced one of the beaten up farm droids, an old protocol BD-3000 unit .

"BD, where did the two new farmhands go? Did you see them?" Korra questioned the droid. The droid hummed in response, it's artificial voice sounding metallic as it answered it's owner.

"Yes, master Korra. They came in shortly after you relocated to the work station."

"Did they say where they were going? Or why?" Korra interrogated the machine with impatience, and a bit of concern for the two off-worlders. Wasn't one stint in the desert enough for the two?

"Yes, master Korra. They did not speak to me directly, but I did overhear them mention the name 'Tenzin Kenobi'. Do you think they intend to find this human?"

"Yes, BD, I think they do." Racing out of the garage, Korra ambled up a small ridge by the homestead. Pulling her macrobinoculars from her belt, she scanned the rapidly darkening landscape for any sign of the two rebels in the sea of sand. Finding nothing in her panoramic view, Korra sighed and shook her head. "They don't even know where they're going! How do they hope to find Tenzin in the desert, at night!?" She turned, kicking at the sand as she retreated back to the homestead. "I guess I'll have to go after them as soon as the suns come up," She muttered to herself, "I can't go out there now, not with the sandpeople lurking about."

As she neared the dwelling, a shout rose in the still night air. "Korra—Korra, are you finished with those droids yet? I'm turning down the power for the night."

"All right!" Korra responded, sidestepping the question. "I'll be down in a few minutes, Uncle Tonraq!" Turning, she took one last look at the vanished horizon. "Boy, am I in for it!"

* * *

"Korra!" Still rubbing the morning sleep from his eyes, Tonraq glanced from side to side, loosening his neck muscles. "Where could that girl be loafing now?" he wondered aloud at the lack of response. There was no sign of movement in the homestead, and he had already checked above. "Korra!" he yelled again. Turning angrily, he stalked back into the kitchen, where Senna was preparing breakfast. "Have you seen Korra this morning?" he asked as softly as he could manage. She glanced briefly at him, then returned to her cooking. "Yes. She said she had some things to do before she took Desna and Eska into Anchorhead this morning, so she left early."

"Before breakfast?" Tonraq frowned worriedly. "That's not like her. Did she take those two with her?"

"I think so. I haven't seen them around here, at any rate."

"Well," Tonraq mused, uncomfortable but with nothing to really hang imprecations on, "she'd better have those ridge units repaired by midday or there'll be hell to pay."

* * *

An unseen face shielded by smooth white metal emerged from the half-buried life pod that now formed the backbone of a dune slightly higher than its neighbors. The voice sounded efficient, but tired. "Nothing," the inspecting trooper muttered to his several companions. "No tapes, and no sign of habitation." Powerful handguns lowered at the information that the pod was deserted. One of the armored men turned, calling out to an officer standing some distance away. "This is definitely the pod that cleared the rebel ship, sir, but there's nothing on board."

"Yet it set down intact," the officer was murmuring to himself. "It could have done so on automatics, but if it was a true malfunction, then they shouldn't have been engaged." Something didn't make sense.

"Here's why there's nothing on board and no hint of life, sir," a voice declared. The officer turned and strode several paces to where another trooper was kneeling in the sand. He held up an object for the officer's inspection. It shone in the sun.

"A cloaking spike?" the officer observed after a quick glance at the metal fragment. Superior and underling exchanged a significant glance. Then their eyes turned simultaneously to the high mesas off to the north

* * *

Gravel and fine sand formed a gritty fog beneath the landspeeder as it slid across the rippling wasteland of Tatooine on humming repulsors. Occasionally the craft would jog slightly as it encountered a dip or slight rise, to return to its smooth passage as its pilot compensated for the change in terrain. Korra leaned back in the seat, skillfully directing the powerful landcraft around dunes and rocky outcrops. She knew that Old Tenzin was fabled to live out in this general direction, even though nobody knows exactly where. She couldn't understand how the twins could have made it out his far in the dark, with no directions.

"Dammit, I must have missed them somewhere out in the dunes. I should just turn back—" her monologue was interrupted by a short blip from her console, and then another as two dots appeared on her scanner. She stared fixedly at the instrument panel, then engaged the speeders accelerator, heading in the direction of the dots.

As she sped along the sand, she remained unaware that other eyes were watching as the craft increased its speed. Those eyes were not organic, but then, they weren't wholly mechanical, either. No one could say for certain, because no one had ever made that intimate a study of the Tusken Raiders—known less formally to the margin farmers of Tatooine simply as the sandpeople. The Tuskens didn't permit close study of themselves, discouraging potential observers by methods as effective as they were uncivilized. A few genealogists thought they must be related to the jawas. Even fewer hypothesized that the jawas were actually the mature form of the sandpeople, but this theory was discounted by the majority of serious scientists. Both races affected tight clothing to shield them from Tatooine's twin dose of solar radiation, but there most comparisons ended. Instead of heavy woven cloaks like the jawas wore, the sandpeople wrapped themselves mummylike in endless swathings and bandages and loose bits of cloth.

Where the jawas feared everything, a Tusken Raider feared little. The sandpeople were larger, stronger, and far more aggressive. Fortunately for the human colonists of Tatooine, they were not very numerous and elected to pursue their nomadic existence in some of Tatooine's most desolate regions. Contact between human and Tusken, therefore, was infrequent and uneasy, and they murdered no more than a handful of humans per year. Since the human population had claimed its share of Tuskens, not always with reason, a peace of a sort existed between the two—as long as neither side gained an advantage.

One of the Tusken felt that that unstable condition had temporarily shifted in his favor, and he was about to take full advantage of it as he raised his rifle toward the landspeeder. But his companion grabbed the weapon and shoved down on it before it could be fired. This set off a violent argument between the two. And, as they traded shrill opinions in a language consisting mostly of consonants, the landspeeder sped on its way. Either because the speeder had passed out of range or because the second Tusken had convinced the other, the two broke off the discussion and scrambled down the back side of the high ridge. Snuffling and a shifting of weight took place at the ridge bottom as the two Banthas stirred at the approach of their masters. Each Bantha was as large as a small dinosaur, with bright eyes and long, thick fur. They hissed anxiously as the two sandpeople approached then mounted them from knee to saddle. With a kick the Banthas rose. Moving slowly but with enormous strides, the two massive horned creatures swept down the back of the rugged bluff, urged on by their anxious, equally outrageous riders.

"It's them, alright," Korra declared with mixed anger and satisfaction as the lagging duo came in to view. The speeder banked and swung down onto the floor of a huge sandstone canyon, and the twins stopped to watch as Korra brought the vehicle to a stop. She slipped her rifle out from behind the seat and slung it over her shoulder, jumping out of the speeder and making her way over to the siblings.

After finishing a cautious survey of their surroundings, Korra approached her companions with a furrowed brow. "Just where, exactly, did you think you were going?"

Eska rolled her eyes at her brother before replying. "This genius here figured that leaving to find Tenzin at dusk was a great idea, because the suns wouldn't be bearing down on us. Of course, he forgot to factor in that we only had a general idea of Kenobi's location, and zero experience with this terrain. We found our way into this canyon, and slept in that small cave." She gestured over her shoulder to a small crevice in the canyon wall.

"We need to find Kenobi before we leave the planet!" Desna responded, clearly annoyed that the other two didn't see the importance of his assigned task. "He can help us!"

"Well," Korra started, "You've managed to head off course by quite a bit. We wouldn't make it to Tenzin's and back before Uncle Tonraq noticed we were gone." She was about to suggest a compromise when the sound of shifting rock echoed off the canyon walls. She motioned for the two rebels to stay quiet, as she assessed the landscape. Feeling that it was suddenly far too quiet, Korra pulled out her binoculars to scan the top of the highest ridge to the right of her location, hoping to find a jawa or something equally non-threatening to be the cause of the noise.

"Did you see something?" Desna whispered, concerned at Korra's sudden change in disposition.

"No, but sandpeople are experts at making themselves invisible." She pulled the macrobinoculars away from her face, and turned to the twins. "We need to get out of here. I've never been this far from the farm in this direction, and even if we aren't being stalked by sandpeople, there are many other strange things living out here. It's better to treat everything out here as dangerous until determined otherwise."

"Should we get a better look? It won't do any good to run right into whatever it is as we try to leave the canyon." Eska reasoned.

"Yeah, maybe I guess." Korra then began to amble as quietly as possible up a small ridge that would allow for a more clear view of the dunes, while being hidden behind a jutting rock. "There are Banthas, for sure," She whispered over her shoulder, "Which means there has to be sandpeople around. Wait, I see one…but there are three Banth—"

Korra's whispered monologue ended suddenly when a dark figure jumped out from behind a boulder to her left. She fell back, spread out on the sand in surprise, mouth hung open as she looked at what had startled her. It was a bandaged leg about as big around as both of her hands together. Shocked, she looked up … and up. The towering figure glaring down at her was no jawa. It had seemingly erupted straight from the sand. Desna and Eska cowered, backing up slowly towards the crevice in which they'd slept. Frozen in place, Korra was still staring up at the raider as the moment of confrontation passed, and the Tusken let out a terrifying grunt of fury and pleasure and brought down his heavy gaderffii. The double-edged ax would have cleaved Korra's skull neatly in two, except that she threw her rifle up in a gesture more instinctive than calculated. Her weapon deflected the blow, but would never do so again. Made from cannibalized freighter plating, the huge ax shattered the barrel of her rifle, and made metallic confetti of the gun's delicate insides.

Korra scrambled backward and found herself against a steep drop. The Raider stalked her slowly, weapon held high over its rag-enclosed head. It uttered a gruesome, chuckling laugh, the sound made all the more inhuman by the distortion effect of its grid-like sand filter mask. Korra tried to view her situation objectively, as she had been instructed to do in survival school. Trouble was, her mouth was dry, her hands were shaking, and she was paralyzed with fear. With the Raider in front of her and a probably fatal drop behind, something else in her mind took over and she went to dive to the left of the Raider, but her plan was foiled when a second Raider appeared, and struck her with the butt of his ax, knocking her unconscious.

None of the Raiders noticed Desna and Eska as they forced themselves into the small alcove in the rocks near the landspeeder. One of the Tusken was carrying the inert form of Korra, which he then unceremoniously dumped in a heap next to the speeder, and joined his fellows as they began swarming over the open craft. Supplies and spare parts were thrown in all directions. From time to time the plundering would be interrupted as several of them quibbled or fought over a particularly choice bit of spoils.

Unexpectedly, distribution of the landspeeder's contents ceased, and with frightening speed the Raiders became part of the desert-scape, looking in all directions. A lost breeze idled absently down the canyon. Far off to the west, something howled. A rolling, booming drone ricocheted off canyon walls and crawled nervously up and down a gorgon scale. The sandpeople remained poised a moment longer. Then they were uttering loud grunts and moans of fright as they rushed to get away from the highly visible landspeeder. The shivering howl sounded again, nearer this time. By now the sandpeople were halfway to their waiting Banthas, that were likewise lowing tensely and tugging at their tethers. Although the sound held no meaning for Desna or Eska, as they had no idea what that sound could have originated from, they tried to squeeze themselves even deeper into the almost-cave.

The booming howl came closer. Judging by the way the sandpeople had reacted, something monstrous beyond imagining had to be behind that rolling cry. Something monstrous and murder-bent which might not have the sense to distinguish between edible organics and inedible machines. Not even the dust of their passing remained to mark where the Tusken Raiders had only minutes before been dismembering the interior of the landspeeder. The twins held their breath, trying to minimize noise as a swishing sound grew gradually audible. Moving toward the landspeeder, the creature appeared above the top of a nearby dune.


	5. Chapter 5: A New Path

Chapter 5: A New Path

* * *

It was tall, but hardly monstrous. Desna and Eska frowned, unsure of how, or why, this figure would have been the cause of that noise. The monster looked very much like an old man. He was clad in a shabby red cloak and loose yellow robes that hung with a few small straps, packs, and unrecognizable instruments. Desna searched the man's wake, but detected no evidence of a pursuing nightmare, nor did the man appear threatened. Actually, Desna thought, he looked kind of pleased. It was impossible to tell where the odd arrival's overlapping attire ended and his skin began. That aged visage blended into the sand-stroked cloth, and his pointed beard appeared but an extension of the loose threads covering his upper chest. Hints of extreme climates other than desert, of ultimate cold and humidity, were etched into that seamed face. A questing beak of nose, like a high rock, protruded outward from a flash-flood of wrinkles and scars. The eyes bordering it were a liquid crystal-azure. The man smiled through sand and dust and beard, squinting at the sight of the crumpled form lying quietly alongside the landspeeder.

Convinced that the sandpeople had been the victims of an auditory delusion of some kind— conveniently ignoring the fact that he had experienced it also—and likewise assured that this stranger meant Korra no harm, Desna shifted his position slightly, trying to obtain a better view. The sound produced by a tiny pebble he dislodged was barely perceptible to his own ears, but the man whirled as if shot. He stared straight at the twin's alcove, still smiling gently. "Hello there," he called in a deep, surprisingly cheerful voice. "Come on out, you two. No need to be afraid."

Something forthright and reassuring was in that voice. In any case, the association of an unknown human was preferable to remaining isolated in this wasteland. Squeezing out from the alcove, Desna went to exit the sanctuary. A hand shot out, encircling his wrist, and he looked back into Eska's concerned eyes. "I think he helped us, Eska. I trust him." He moved away from his sister, and made his way over to where Korra lay sprawled. Desna's body inclined forward as he examined the limp form, a concerned look etching his face.

Walking over, the old man bent beside Korra and Desna, and reached out to touch her forehead, then her temple. Eska moved quietly as she joined them, standing behind the two men as they watched Korra carefully. Shortly, the unconscious youth was stirring and mumbling like a dreaming sleeper. "Don't worry," the man told Desna, "she'll be all right."

As if to confirm this opinion, Korra blinked, stared upward uncomprehendingly, and muttered, "What happened?"

"Rest easy," the man instructed her as he sat back on his heels. "You've had a busy day." Again the boyish grin. "You're mighty lucky your head's still attached to the rest of you." Korra looked around, seeing Desna and Eska nearby, and her gaze came to rest on the elderly face hovering above her. Recognition did wonders for her condition.

"Tenzin … it's got to be!" A sudden remembrance made her look around fearfully. But there was no sign of sandpeople. Slowly she raised her body to a sitting position. "Tenzin… am I glad to see you!" Rising, the old man surveyed the canyon floor and rolling rimwall above. One foot played with the sand.

"The Jundland wastes are not to be traveled lightly. It's the misguided traveler who tempts the Tuskens' hospitality." His gaze went back to his patient. "Tell me, young lady, what brings you out this far into nowhere?"

Korra indicated Desna and Eska. "These two. I'm not entirely sure why they had to find you so desperately, but I'm sure they'll tell you now that they have." Korra's gaze shifted upward. "They say they're looking for a Tenzin Kenobi." Korra watched closely, but the man showed no reaction. "We thought maybe you would know who that is? My uncle thinks he was a real person." An introspective frown did remarkable things to that sandblasted face. Kenobi appeared to ponder the question, scratching absently at his beard.

"Kenobi!" he recited. "… now, that's a name I haven't heard in a long time. A long time. Most curious."

"My uncle said he was dead," Korra supplied helpfully.

"Oh, he's not dead," Tenzin corrected her easily. "Not yet, not yet."

Korra climbed excitedly to her feet, all thoughts of Tusken Raiders forgotten now. "You know him, then?"

A smile of perverse youthfulness split that collage of wrinkled skin and beard. "Of course I know him: he's me. Just as you probably suspected, Korra. I haven't gone by the name Kenobi, though, since before you were born."

"Then," Korra essayed, gesturing at the siblings, "these two were looking for you."

"Now, that's the peculiar part," an openly puzzled Kenobi confessed, regarding the silent twins. "Why would you be looking for me?" Something drew the old man's gaze suddenly to the brow of nearby cliffs, and before either rebel could answer him, Tenzin spoke again. "I think it's best we make use of your landspeeder some. The sandpeople are easily startled, but they'll soon return in greater numbers. A landspeeder's not a prize readily conceded, and after all, jawas they're not."

Placing both hands over his mouth in a peculiar fashion, Kenobi inhaled deeply and let out an unearthly howl that made Korra jump. "That ought to keep any laggards running for a while yet," the old man concluded with satisfaction. "That's a krayt dragon call!" Korra gaped in astonishment. "How did you do that?"

"I'll show you sometime. It's not too hard. Just takes the right attitude, a set of well-used vocal cords, and a lot of wind. Now, if you were an Equalist bureaucrat, I could teach you right off, but you're not." He scanned the cliff-spine again. "And I don't think this is the time or place for it."

"I won't argue that." Korra was rubbing at the back of her head. "Let's get started."

The group of four quickly gathered themselves and boarded the landspeeder, grateful to be leaving the canyon behind. They had succeeded in vacating the canyon before the Tusken Raiders could return in force. Under Kenobi's direction, Korra left a trail behind them so confusing that not even a hypernasal jawa could have followed it.

Reaching Tenzin's settlement, the three youths followed the older man into his house, taking in the assortment of odd and interesting items that decorated the small living space. Tenzin motioned to a seating area, taking a small stool for himself across from Korra, Eska, and Desna.

"Now then, let's see if we can figure out what it is that you need from me, and where you came from." Tenzin looked expectantly at the twins, and Korra was listening intently.

Desna cleared his throat, looking up at Tenzin and meeting his gaze "We were on board a cruiser, just outside the atmosphere of this planet. We were attacked by an Equalist ship, and escaped via space pod," he began, "just before we abandoned ship, though… a young woman…Senator and Princess Asami Sato, approached me with these tapes. She said that no matter what, we had to get these to you" And with that, Desna reached into his pack and withdrew a handful of memory discs, holding them out for Tenzin to take.

Kenobi murmured contemplatively before taking the proffered discs. Standing from the group, he walked over to a hologram transmitter, and put the first disc into the machine. A beam of blue light shot out of the machine, then focused into the image of a young woman. The image continued to flicker, indicating a tape hastily prepared. But it was much sharper, better defined now as the message began to play.

"General Tenzin Kenobi," the mellifluous voice was saying, "I present myself in the name of the world family of Alderaan and of the Alliance to Restore the Republic. I break your solitude at the bidding of my father, Hiroshi Sato, Viceroy and First Chairman of the Alderaan system." Kenobi absorbed this extraordinary declamation while Korra's eyes bugged big enough to fall from her face. "Years ago, General," the voice continued, "you served the Old Republic in the Clone Wars. Now my father begs you to aid us again in our most desperate hour. He would have you join him on Alderaan. You must go to him."

The three youths looked at each other in shock as the message continued playing. "I regret that I am unable to present my father's request to you in person. My mission to meet personally with you has failed. Hence I have been forced to resort to this secondary method of communication. Information vital to the survival of the Alliance has been secured in these memory discs. My father will know how to read them. I plead with you to see this message safely delivered to Alderaan."

She paused, and when she continued, her words were hurried and less laced with formality. "You must help me, Tenzin Kenobi. You are my last hope. I will be captured by agents of the Empire. They will learn nothing from me. Everything to be learned lies locked in the tapes. Do not fail us, Tenzin Kenobi. Do not fail me." A small cloud of tri-dimensional static replaced the delicate portrait, then it vanished entirely.

Korra, Eska, and Desna gazed up expectantly at Tenzin. Korra's mind was as muddy as a pond laced with petroleum. Unanchored, her thoughts and eyes turned for stability to the quiet figure seated nearby. The old man. The crazy wizard. The desert bum and all-around character whom her uncle and everyone else had known of for as long as Korra could recall. If the breathless, anxiety-ridden message the unknown woman had just spoken into the cool air of the cave had affected Kenobi in any way, he gave no hint of it. Instead, he leaned back against the rock wall and tugged thoughtfully at his beard, puffing slowly on a water pipe of free-form tarnished chrome.

Korra visualized that simple yet lovely portrait. "She's so—so—" Her farming background didn't provide her with the requisite words. Suddenly something in the message caused her to stare disbelievingly at the old man. "General Kenobi, you fought in the Clone Wars? But … that was so long ago."

"Um, yes," Kenobi acknowledged, as casually as he might have discussed the recipe for shang stew. "I guess it was a while back. I was a Jedi knight once. Like," he added, watching the youth appraisingly, "your father."

"A Jedi knight," Korra echoed. Then she looked confused. "But my father didn't fight in the Clone Wars. He was no knight—just a navigator on a space freighter."

Kenobi's smile enfolded the pipe's mouthpiece. "Or so your uncle has told you." His attention was suddenly focused elsewhere. "Tonraq Lars didn't agree with your father's ideas, opinions, or with his philosophy of life. He believed that your father should have stayed here on Tatooine and not gotten involved in …" Again the seemingly indifferent shrug. "Well, he thought he should have remained here and minded his farming." Korra said nothing, her body tense as the old man related bits and pieces of a personal history Korra had viewed only through her uncle's distortions.

"Tonraq was always afraid that your father's adventurous life might influence you, might pull you away from Anchorhead." He shook his head slowly, regretfully at the remembrance. "I'm afraid there wasn't much of the farmer in your father."

Korra turned away. "I wish I'd known him," she finally whispered.

"He was the best pilot I ever knew," Kenobi went on, "and a smart fighter. The Force … the instinct was strong in him." For a brief second Kenobi actually appeared old. "He was also a good friend." Suddenly the boyish twinkle returned to those piercing eyes along with the old man's natural humor. "I understand you're quite a pilot yourself. Piloting and navigation aren't hereditary, but a number of the things that can combine to make a good small-ship pilot are. Those you may have inherited. Still, even a duck has to be taught to swim."

"What's a duck?" Korra asked curiously.

"Never mind. In many ways, you know, you are much like your father." Kenobi's unabashed look of evaluation made Korra nervous. "You've grown up quite a bit since the last time I saw you." Having no reply for that, Korra waited silently as Kenobi sank back into deep contemplation. After a while the old man stirred, evidently having reached an important decision. "All this reminds me," he declared with deceptive casualness, "I have something here for you." He rose and walked over to a bulky, old-fashioned chest and started rummaging through it. All sorts of intriguing items were removed and shoved around, only to be placed back in the bin. A few of them Korra recognized.

As Kenobi was obviously intent on something important, Korra forbore inquiring about any of the other tantalizing flotsam. "When you were old enough," Kenobi was saying, "your father wanted you to have this … if I can ever find the blasted device. I tried to give it to you once before, but your uncle wouldn't allow it. He believed you might get some crazy ideas from it and end up following old Tenzin on some idealistic crusade."

He continued, "you see, Korra, that's where your father and your uncle Tonraq disagreed. Lars is not a man to let idealism interfere with business, whereas your father didn't think the question even worth discussing. His decision on such matters came like his piloting—instinctively."

Korra nodded as Tenzin continued to dig through the chest. Desna, having watched the personal exchange with interest, chose the lull in conversation as a time to pose his question. "So, Mr. Kenobi, do you think you can help my sister and I take this message to Alderaan? It seems pretty important."

A grunt came from behind them, and the three companions turned to see a pleased Kenobi walking over. He handed Korra a small, innocuous-looking device, which the youth studied with interest. It consisted primarily of a short, thick handgrip with a couple of small switches set into the grip. Above this small post was a circular metal disk barely larger in diameter than his spread palm. A number of unfamiliar, jewellike components were built into both handle and disk, including what looked like the smallest power cell Korra had ever seen. The reverse side of the disk was polished to a mirror brightness. But it was the power cell that puzzled Korra the most. Whatever the thing was, it required a great deal of energy, according to the rating form of the cell. Despite the claim that it had belonged to his father, the gizmo looked newly manufactured. Kenobi had obviously kept it carefully. Only a number of minute scratches on the handgrip hinted at previous usage.

"Well, young Desna, I'd like to think I can, but it depends on being able to get off of the planet, which has grown increasingly difficult since the Empire took control. There will be many questions as to how you two got here, without papers, in the first place." Tenzin looked over at Korra, who was still inspecting the item he had given her.

"Sir?" Korra questioned, looking up at Tenzin, "What is it?" she finally asked, unable, despite her best efforts, to identify the device.

"Your father's lightsaber," Kenobi told her. "At one time they were widely used. Still are, in certain galactic quarters."

Korra examined the controls on the handle, then tentatively touched a brightly colored button up near the mirrored pommel. Instantly the disk put forth a blue-white beam as thick around as her thumb. It was dense to the point of opacity and a little over a meter in length. It did not fade, but remained as brilliant and intense at its far end as it did next to the disk. Strangely, Korra felt no heat from it, though she was very careful not to touch it. She knew what a lightsaber could do, though she had never seen one before. It could drill a hole right through the rock wall of Kenobi's cave—or through a human being.

"This was the formal weapon of a Jedi knight," explained Kenobi. "Not as clumsy or random as a blaster. More skill than simple sight was required for its use. An elegant weapon. It was a symbol as well. Anyone can use a blaster or fusion-cutter—but to use a lightsaber well was a mark of someone a cut above the ordinary." He was pacing the floor of the cave as he spoke. "For over a thousand generations, Korra, the Jedi knights were the most powerful, most respected force in the galaxy. They served as the guardians and guarantors of peace and justice in the Old Republic."

When Korra failed to ask what had happened to them since, Kenobi looked up to see that the youth was staring vacantly into space, having absorbed little if any of the elder's instruction. Some men would have chided Korra for not paying attention. Not Kenobi. More sensitive than most, he waited patiently until the silence weighed strong enough on Korra for her to speak. "How," she asked slowly, "did my father die?"

Kenobi hesitated, and Korra sensed that the old man had no wish to talk about this particular matter. Unlike Tonraq Lars, however, Kenobi was unable to take refuge in a comfortable lie. "He was betrayed and murdered," Kenobi declared solemnly, "by a very young Jedi named Darth Amon." He was not looking at Korra, but off into the distance, as if seeing the memory play before his eyes. "A boy I was training. One of my brightest disciples … one of my greatest failures."

Kenobi resumed his pacing. "Amon used the training I gave him and the Force within him for evil, to help the later corrupt Emperors. With the Jedi knights disbanded, disorganized, or dead, there were few to oppose Amon. Today they are all but extinct." An indecipherable expression crossed Kenobi's face.

"In many ways they were too good, too trusting for their own health. They put too much trust in the stability of the Republic, failing to realize that while the body might be sound, the head was growing diseased and feeble, leaving it open to manipulation by such as the Emperor. I wish I knew what Amon was after. Sometimes I have the feeling he is marking time in preparation for some incomprehensible abomination. Such is the destiny of one who masters the Force and is consumed by its dark side."

Korra's face twisted in confusion. "A Force? That's the second time you've mentioned a 'Force.' "

Kenobi nodded. "I forget sometimes in whose presence I babble. Let us say simply that the Force is something a Jedi must deal with. While it has never been properly explained, scientists have theorized it is an energy field generated by living things. Early man suspected its existence, yet remained in ignorance of its potential for millennia. Only certain individuals could recognize the Force for what it was. They were mercilessly labeled: charlatans, fakers, mystics—and worse. Even fewer could make use of it. As it was usually beyond their primitive controls, it frequently was too powerful for them. They were misunderstood by their fellows—and worse." Kenobi made a wide, all-encompassing gesture with both arms. "The Force surrounds each and every one of us. Some men believe it directs our actions, and not the other way around. Knowledge of the Force and how to manipulate it was what gave the Jedi his special power."

The arms came down and Kenobi stared at Korra until the youth began to fidget uncomfortably. When he spoke again it was in a tone so crisp and unaged that Korra jumped in spite of herself. "You must learn the ways of the Force also, Korra—if you are to come with us," Tenzin gestured to the twins, "to Alderaan."

"Alderaan!" Korra hopped off the repair seat, looking dazed. "I'm not going to Alderaan. I don't even know where Alderaan is." Vaporators, droids, harvest—abruptly the surroundings seemed to close in on her, the formerly intriguing furnishings and alien artifacts now just a mite frightening. She looked around wildly, trying to avoid the piercing gaze of Tenzin Kenobi … old Tenzin … crazy Tenzin … General Tenzni … "I've got to get back home," she found herself muttering thickly. "It's late. I'm in for it as it is." Remembering something, she gestured toward the two diplomats.

"They can stay with you, since you'll be going to Alderaan together. I'll think of something to tell my uncle—I'll say they managed to find transport today," she added forlornly.

"I need your help, Korra," Kenobi explained, his manner a combination of sadness and steel. "I'm getting too old for this kind of thing. Can't trust myself to finish it properly on my own. This mission is far too important." He nodded toward Desna. "You heard and saw the message."

"But … I can't get involved with anything like that," protested Korra. "I've got work to do; we've got crops to bring in—even though Uncle Tonraq could always break down and hire a little extra help. I mean, one, I guess. But there's nothing I can do about it. Not now. Besides, that's all such a long way from here. The whole thing is really none of my business."

"That sounds like your uncle talking," Kenobi observed without rancor.

"Oh! My uncle Tonraq… How am I going to explain all this to him?" The old man suppressed a smile, aware that Korra's destiny had already been determined for her. It had been ordained five minutes before she had learned about the manner of her father's death. It had been ordered before that when she had heard the complete message. It had been fixed in the nature of things when she had first viewed the pleading portrait of the beautiful Senator Sato. Kenobi shrugged inwardly. Likely it had been finalized even before the girl was born. Not that Tenzin believed in predestination, but he did believe in heredity—and in the Force.

"Remember, Korra, the suffering of one man is the suffering of all. Distances are irrelevant to injustice. If not stopped soon enough, evil eventually reaches out to engulf all men, whether they have opposed it or ignored it."

"I suppose," Korra confessed nervously, "I could take you as far as Anchorhead. You can get transport from there to Mos Eisley, or wherever it is you want to go."

"Very well," agreed Kenobi. "That will do for a beginning. Then you must do what you feel is right.

Korra turned away, now thoroughly confused. "Okay. Right now I don't feel too good …"

* * *

The holding hole was deathly dim, with only the bare minimum of illumination provided. There was barely enough to see the black metal walls and the high ceiling overhead. The cell was designed to maximize a prisoner's feelings of helplessness, and this it achieved well. So much so that the single occupant started tensely as a hum came from one end of the chamber.

The metal door which began moving aside was as thick as her body—as if, she mused bitterly, they were afraid she might break through anything less massive with her bare hands. Straining to see outside, the girl saw several Equalist guards assume positions just outside the doorway. Eyeing them defiantly, Asami Sato backed up against the far wall. Her determined expression collapsed as soon as a monstrous black form entered the room, gliding smoothly as if on treads. Amon's presence crushed her spirit as thoroughly as an elephant would crush an eggshell. That villain was followed by an large ox of a man who was only slightly less terrifying, despite his miniscule appearance alongside the Dark Lord. Darth Amon made a gesture to someone outside. Something that hummed like a huge bee moved close and slipped inside the doorway. Asami choked on her own breath at the sight of the dark metal globe. It hung suspended on independent repulsors, a jumble of metal arms protruding from its sides. The arms were tipped with a multitude of delicate instruments.

Asami studied the contraption fearfully. She had heard rumors of such machines, but had never really believed that Equalist technicians would construct such a monstrosity. Incorporated into its soulless memory was every barbarity, every substantiated outrage known to mankind—and to several alien races as well. Amon and Tarrlok stood there quietly, giving her plenty of time to study the hovering nightmare. The Governor in particular did not delude himself into thinking that the mere presence of the device would shock her into giving up the information he needed.

Not, he reflected, that the ensuing session would be especially unpleasant. There was always enlightenment and knowledge to be gained from such encounters, and the Senator promised to be a most interesting subject. After a suitable interval had passed, he motioned to the machine. "Now, Senator Sato, Princess Sato, we will discuss the location of the principal rebel base." The machine moved slowly toward her, traveling on a rising hum. Its indifferent spherical form blocked out Amon, the Governor, the rest of the cell … the light … Muffled sounds penetrated the cell walls and thick door, drifting out into the hallway beyond. They barely intruded on the peace and quiet of the walkway running past the sealed chamber. Even so, the guards stationed immediately outside managed to find excuses to edge a sufficient distance away to where those oddly modulated sounds could no longer be heard at all.


	6. Chapter 6: Fire and Freedom

Chapter 6: Fire and Freedom

* * *

"Look over there, you three," Kenobi ordered, pointing to the southwest. The landspeeder continued to race over the gravelly desert floor beneath them. "Smoke, I should think."

Eska spared a glance at the indicated direction. "I don't see anything."

"Let's angle over that way anyhow. Someone may be in trouble." Korra turned the speeder. Before long the rising wisps of smoke that Kenobi had somehow detected earlier became visible to her also. Topping a slight rise, the speeder dropped down a gentle slope into a broad, shallow canyon that was filled with twisted, burned shapes, some of them inorganic, some not. Dead in the center of this carnage and looking like a beached metal whale lay the shattered hulk of a jawa sandcrawler.

Korra brought the speeder to a halt. Kenobi followed her, Desna, and Eska onto the sand, and together they began to examine the detritus of destruction. Several slight depressions in the sand caught Korra's attention. Walking a little faster, she came up next to them and studied them for a moment before calling back to Kenobi. "Looks like the sandpeople did it, all right. Here's Bantha tracks …" Korra noticed a gleam of metal half buried in the sand. "And there's a piece of one of those big double axes of theirs." She shook her head in confusion. "But I never heard of the Raiders hitting something this big."

She leaned back, staring up at the towering, burned-out bulk of the sandcrawler. Kenobi had passed him. He was examining the broad, huge footprints in the sand. "They didn't," he declared casually, "but they intended that we—and anyone else who might happen onto this—should think so.

Desna moved up alongside him. "I don't understand."

"Look at these tracks carefully," the older man directed him, pointing down at the nearest and then up at the others. "Notice anything funny about them?" Desna shook his head. "Whoever left here was riding Banthas side by side. Sandpeople always ride one Bantha behind another, single file, to hide their strength from any distant observers.

Leaving Desna to gape at the parallel sets of tracks, Kenobi turned his attention to the sandcrawler. He pointed out where single weapons' bursts had blasted away portals, treads, and support beams. "Look at the precision with which this firepower was applied. Sandpeople aren't this accurate. In fact, no one on Tatooine fires and destroys with this kind of efficiency." Turning, he examined the horizon. One of those nearby bluffs concealed a secret—and a threat. "Only Equalist troops would mount an attack on a sandcrawler with this kind of cold accuracy."

Korra had walked over to one of the small, crumpled bodies and kicked it over onto its back. Her face screwed up in distaste as she saw what remained of the pitiful creature. "These are the same jawas who sold Uncle Tonraq and me Desna and Eska. I recognize this one's cloak design. Why would Equalist troops be slaughtering jawas and sandpeople? They must have killed some Raiders to get those Banthas." Her mind worked furiously, and she found herself growing unnaturally tense as she stared back at the landspeeder, past the rapidly deteriorating corpses of the jawas.

"But … if they tracked the sale to the jawas, then they had to learn first who they sold them to. That would lead them back to …" Korra was sprinting insanely for the landspeeder.

"Korra, wait … wait, Korra!" Eska yelled.

Kenobi shouted after her, "It's too dangerous! You'd never …!" Korra heard nothing except the roaring in her ears, felt nothing save the burning in her heart. She jumped into the speeder and was throwing the accelerator full over almost simultaneously. In an explosion of sand and gravel she left Kenobi and the twins standing alone in the midst of smoldering bodies, framed by the still smoking wreck of the sandcrawler.

* * *

The smoke that Korra saw as she drew near the homestead was of a different consistency from that which had boiled out of the jawa machine. She barely remembered to shut down the landspeeder's engine as she popped the cockpit canopy and threw herself out.

Dark smoke was drifting steadily from holes in the ground. Those holes had been her home, the only one she had ever known. They might as well have been throats of small volcanoes now. Again and again she tried to penetrate the surface entrances to the below-ground complex. Again and again the still-intense heat drove her back, coughing and choking. Weakly she found herself stumbling clear, her eyes watering not entirely from the smoke. Half blinded, she staggered over to the exterior entrance to the garage. It too was burning. But perhaps they managed to escape in the other landspeeder. "Aunt Senna … Uncle Tonraq!"

It was difficult to make out much of anything through the eye-stinging haze. Two smoking shapes showed down the tunnel barely visible through tears and haze. They almost looked like—She squinted harder, wiping angrily at her uncooperative eyes. No. Then she was spinning away, falling to her stomach and burying her face in the sand so she wouldn't have to look anymore.

* * *

The tri-dimensional solid screen filled one wall of the vast chamber from floor to ceiling. It showed a million star systems. A tiny portion of the galaxy, but an impressive display nonetheless when exhibited in such a fashion. Below, far below, the huge shape of Darth Amon stood flanked on one side by Governor Tarrlok and on the other by Admiral Ghazan and General Zolt, their private antagonisms forgotten in the awesomeness of this moment. "The final checkout is complete," Ghazan informed them. "All systems are operational." He turned to the others. "What shall be the first course we set?"

Amon appeared not to have heard as he mumbled softly, half to himself, "She has a surprising amount of control. Her resistance to the interrogator is considerable." He glanced down at Tarrlok. "It will be some time before we can extract any useful information from her."

"I've always found the methods you recommend rather quaint, Amon."

"They are efficient," the Dark Lord argued softly. "In the interests of accelerating the procedure, however, I am open to your suggestions."

Tarrlok looked thoughtful. "Such stubbornness can often be detoured by applying threats to something other than the one involved."

"What do you mean?"

"Only that I think it is time we demonstrated the full power of this station. We may do so in a fashion doubly useful." He instructed the attentive Ghazan, "Tell your programmers to set course for the Alderaan system."

* * *

Kenobi's pride did not prevent him from wrapping an old scarf over nose and mouth to filter out a portion of the bonfire's drifting putrid odor. Though showing no emotion, both Eska and Desna felt both saddened and disgusted by the carnage they were faced with. Working together, the two siblings helped Kenobi throw the last of the bodies onto the blazing pyre, then stood back and watched the dead continue to burn.

Not that the desert scavengers wouldn't have been equally efficient in picking the burned-out sandcrawler clean of flesh, but Kenobi retained values most modern men would have deemed archaic. He would consign no one to the bone-gnawers and gravel-maggots, not even a filthy jawa. At a rising thrumming Kenobi turned from the residue of the noisome business to see the landspeeder approaching, now traveling at a sensible pace, far different from when it had left. It slowed and hovered nearby, but showed no signs of life. Gesturing for the two rebels to follow, Tenzin started toward the waiting craft. The canopy flipped open and up to reveal Korra sitting motionless in the pilot's seat. She didn't look up at Kenobi's inquiring glance. That in itself was enough to tell the old man what had happened.

"I share your sorrow, Korra," he finally ventured softly. "There was nothing you could have done. Had you been there, you'd be dead now, too, and these two, and the tapes they carry, would be in the hands of the Equalists. Not even the Force—"

"Damn your Force!" Korra snarled with sudden violence. Now she turned and glared at Kenobi. There was a set to her jaw that belonged on a much older face. "I'll take you to the spaceport at Mos Eisley, Tenzin. I want to go with you—to Alderaan. There's nothing left for me here now."

Her eyes turned to look out across the desert, to focus on something beyond sand and rock and canyon walls. "I want to learn to be a Jedi, like my father. I want …" She paused, the words backing up like a logjam in her throat.

Kenobi slid into the cockpit, put a hand gently on the youth's shoulder, then went forward to make room for Desna and Eska to slip into the back of the transport. "I'll do my best to see that you get what you want, Korra. For now, let's go to Mos Eisley."

Korra nodded and closed the canopy. The landspeeder moved away to the southeast, leaving behind the still-smoldering sandcrawler, the jawa funeral pyre, and the only life Korra had ever known.

Leaving the speeder parked near the edge of the sandstone bluff, Korra, Tenzin, Desna, and Eska walked over and peered down at the tiny regularized bumps erupting from the sun-baked plain below. The haphazard collage of low-grade concrete, stone, and plastoid structures spread outward from a central power-and-water-distribution plant like the spokes of a wheel. Actually the town was considerably larger than it appeared, since a good portion of it lay underground. Looking like bomb craters from this distance, the smooth circular depressions of launch stations pockmarked the cityscape.

A brisk gale was scouring the tired ground. It whipped the sand about the groups's feet and legs as Korra adjusted her protective goggles. "There it is," Kenobi murmured, indicating the unimpressive collection of buildings, "Mos Eisley Spaceport—the ideal place for us to lose ourselves while we seek passage off-planet. Not a more wretched collection of villainy and disreputable types exists anywhere on Tatooine. The Empire has been alerted to us, so we must be very cautious, you three. The population of Mos Eisley should disguise us well."

Korra wore a determined look. "I'm ready for anything, Tenzin.

I wonder if you comprehend what that might entail, Korra, Kenobi thought. But he only nodded as he led the way back to the landspeeder.

* * *

Unlike Anchorhead, there were enough people in Mos Eisley to require movement in the heat of day. Built from the beginning with commerce in mind, even the oldest of the town's buildings had been designed to provide protection from the twin suns. They looked primitive from the outside, and many were. But oftentimes walls and arches of old stone masked durasteel double walls with circulating coolant flowing freely between. Korra was maneuvering the landspeeder through the town's outskirts when several tall, gleaming forms appeared from nowhere and began to close a circle around them. For one panicked moment she considered gunning the engine and racing through the pedestrians and other vehicles. A startlingly firm grip on her arm both restrained and relaxed her. She glanced over to see Kenobi smiling, warning her. So they continued at a normal town cruising speed, Korra hoping that the Equalist troops were bent on business elsewhere.

No such luck.

One of the troopers raised an armored hand. Korra had no choice but to respond. As she pulled the speeder over, she grew aware of the attention they were receiving from curious passersby. Worse yet, it seemed that the trooper's attention was in fact reserved not for Kenobi or herself, but for the two siblings seated in the speeder behind them. "How long have you had these slaves?" the trooper who had raised his hand barked. Polite formalities were to be dispensed with, it appeared.

Looking blank for a second, Korra finally came up with "Three or four seasons, I guess."

"They're up for sale, if you want them—and the price is right," Kenobi put in, giving a wonderful impression of a desert finagler out to cajole a few quick credits from ignorant Equalists.

The trooper in charge did not deign to reply. He was absorbed in a thorough examination of the landspeeder's underside. "Did you come in from the south?" he asked.

"No … no," Korra answered quickly, "we live in the west, near Bestine township."

"Bestine?" the trooper murmured, walking around to study the speeder's front. Korra forced herself to stare straight ahead. Finally the armored figure concluded his examination. He moved to stand ominously close to Korra and snapped, "Let me see your identification."

Surely the man sensed her terror and nervousness by now, Korra thought wildly. The resolution she'd had not long before to be ready to take on anything had already disintegrated under the unwinking stare of this professional soldier. She knew what would happen if they got a look at her formal ID, with the location of her homestead and the names of her nearest relatives on it. Something seemed to be buzzing inside her head; she felt faint.

Kenobi had leaned over and was talking easily to the trooper. "You don't need to see her identification," the old man informed the Equalist in an extremely peculiar voice.

Staring blankly back at him, the officer replied, as if it were self-evident, "I don't need to see your identification." His reaction was the opposite of Kenobi's: his voice was normal, but his expression peculiar.

"These aren't the slaves you're looking for," Kenobi told him pleasantly.

"These aren't the slaves we're looking for."

"She can go about her business."

"You can go about your business," the metal-masked officer informed Korra.

The expression of relief that spread across Korra's face ought to have been as revealing as her previous nervousness, but the Equalist ignored it. "Move along," Kenobi whispered.

"Move along," the officer instructed Korra. Unable to decide whether she should salute, nod, or give thanks to the man, Korra settled for nudging the accelerator. The landspeeder moved forward, drawing away from the circle of troops. As they prepared to round a corner, Korra risked a glance backward. The officer who had inspected them appeared to be arguing with several comrades, though at this distance Korra couldn't be sure.

She peered up at her tall companion and started to say something, but Eska beat her too it. "What was that? How did you make them let us go?"

Kenobi only shook his head slowly and smiled. Swallowing her curiosity, Korra concentrated on guiding the speeder through steadily narrowing streets. Kenobi seemed to have some idea where they were headed. Korra studied the run-down structures and equally unwholesome-looking individuals they were passing. They had entered the oldest section of Mos Eisley and consequently the one where the old vices flourished most strongly. Kenobi pointed and Korra pulled the landspeeder up in front of what appeared to be one of the original spaceport's first blockhouses. It had been converted into a cantina whose clientele was suggested by the diverse nature of transport parked outside. Some of them Korra recognized, others she had only heard rumors of. The cantina itself, she knew from the design of the building, must lie partially underground.

As the dusty but still sleek craft pulled into an open spot, a jawa materialized from nowhere and began running covetous hands over the metal sides. Korra leaned out and barked something harsh at the subhuman which caused it to scurry away. "I can't abide those jawas," murmured Desna with lofty disdain. "Disgusting creatures."

Korra's mind was too full of their narrow escape for her to comment on Desna's sentiments. "I still can't understand how we got by those troops. I thought we were as good as dead."

"The Force is in the mind, Korra, and can sometimes be used to influence others. It's a powerful ally. But as you come to know the Force, you will discover that it can also be a danger."

Nodding without really understanding, Korra indicated the run-down though obviously popular cantina. "Do you really think we can find a pilot here capable of taking us all the way to Alderaan?"

Kenobi was exiting from the speeder. "Most of the good, independent freighter pilots frequent this place, though many can afford better. They can talk freely here. You should have learned by now, Korra, not to equate ability with appearance." Korra saw the old man's shabby clothing anew and felt ashamed. "Watch yourself, though. This place can be rough."

Korra found herself squinting as they entered the cantina. It was darker inside than she would have liked. Perhaps the regular habitués of this place were unaccustomed to the light of day, or didn't wish to be seen clearly. It didn't occur to Korra that the dim interior in combination with the brilliantly lit entrance permitted everyone inside to see each newcomer before she could see them. Moving inward, Korra was astonished at the variety of beings making use of the bar. There were one-eyed creatures and thousand-eyed, creatures with scales, creatures with fur, and some with skin that seemed to ripple and change consistency according to their feelings of the moment.

Hovering near the bar itself was a towering insectoid that Korra glimpsed only as a threatening shadow. It contrasted with two of the tallest women she had ever seen. They were among the most normal-looking of the outrageous assemblage of humans that mixed freely among alien counterparts. Tentacles, claws, and hands were wrapped around drinking utensils of various sizes and shapes. Conversation was a steady babble of human and alien tongues. Leaning close, Kenobi gestured toward the far end of the bar. A small knot of rough-looking humans lounged there, drinking, laughing, and trading stories of dubious origin.

"Corellians—pirates, most likely."

"I thought we were looking for an independent freighter captain with his own ship for hire," Eska whispered back.

"So we are, young lady, so we are," agreed Kenobi. "And there's bound to be one or two adequate for our needs among that group. It's just that in Corellian terminology the distinction between who owns what cargo tends to get a little muddled from time to time. Wait here." The younger trio nodded and watched as Kenobi worked his way through the crowd. The Corellians' suspicion at his approach vanished as soon as he engaged them in conversation.

Standing awkwardly by the bar, the three young adults looked around with both curiosity and apprehension. Suddenly, Korra was shoved to the side as something rammed in to her shoulder. "Hey!" she exclaimed, annoyed. Looking around and struggling to regain her composure, she found himself staring up at an enormous, scruffy-looking human. Korra saw by the man's clothing that he must be a mercenary, and a ruthless one at that.

"What?" the glaring form growled, challenging Korra to pick a fight.

"What?" Korra replied dumbly. She still hadn't recovered from her sudden submergence into the cultures of several dozen races. It was rather different from the poolroom behind the Anchorhead power station. "Oh, nothing. Nothing, I was just moving." Korra grabbed Desna and Eska and moved toward an unoccupied corner of the bar, glad that the mercenary decided to turn back to his drink.

Trying to maintain an air of quiet confidence, she returned her gaze to old Tenzin, and was startled when she saw what the older man was talking to now. The Corellian was gone. In its place Kenobi was chatting with a towering young man that was attempting to look serious, but broke the façade with an easy smile. Korra appraised the young man, taking in his appearance. He was clearly muscular, with broad shoulders and a square jaw, dressed in what would have been an official looking green flight uniform with black pants, had it not been worn out in many areas. His hair was short and brown, pushed back from his face and away from his emerald green eyes, except for one small curl hanging over his forhead. Despite his non-violent attitude and boyish looks, he wore a pair of chromed bandoliers which held lethal projectiles of a type unknown to Korra.

Other than this, Korra could infer nothing else about the young man. Even though he appeared to be no older than her, twenty one seasons, and with a kind expression, the rest of the cantina's inhabitants spared him no glances, as though he were a regular. All ignored him but old Tenzin—Tenzin, who was talking to the boy as if they were old friends. In the course of the conversation the old man had occasion to gesture in the trio's direction. Once the huge man stared directly at Korra and let out a howling laugh. Disgruntled by the role she was evidently playing in the discussion, Korra turned away and pretended to ignore the whole conversation. She might be acting unfairly toward the young man, but she was unsure that the laugh was meant in gentle good-fellowship.

For the life of her, she couldn't understand what Tenzin wanted with the boy, or why he was spending his time in whispered conversation with him instead of with the now-vanished Corellians. So she sat and sipped her drink in splendid silence, her eyes roving over the crowd in hopes of meeting a responsive gaze that held no belligerence. Suddenly, something shoved Eska roughly from behind, so hard that the twin almost fell. She and Desna turned angrily, but their fury spent itself in astonishment.

They found themselves confronted by a large squarish monstrosity of multiple eyes and indeterminate origin. "Negola dewaghi wooldugger?" the apparition bubbled challengingly. None of the group had ever seen Its like before; they knew neither its species nor its language. The gabbling might have been an invitation to a fight, a request to share a drink, or a marriage proposal. Despite their ignorance, however, Korra could tell by the way the creature bobbed and wove unsteadily on its podal supports that it had imbibed too much of whatever it considered a pleasing intoxicant. Not knowing what else to do, Korra tried turning back to her own drink while studiously ignoring the creature, motioning for the twins to do the same. As she did so, a thing—a cross between a capybara and a small baboon—bounced over to stand (or squat) next to the quivering many-eyed creature. A short, grubby-looking human also approached and put a companionable arm around the snuffling mass.

"He doesn't like you," the stubby human informed Korra in a surprisingly deep voice.

"I'm sorry about that," Korra admitted, wishing heartily she were somewhere else.

"I don't like you, either," the smiling little man went on with brotherly negativity.

"I said I was sorry about it." Whether from the conversation it was having with the rodentlike creature or the overdose of booze, the apartment house for wayward eyeballs was obviously growing agitated. It leaned forward, almost toppling into Desna, and spewed a stream of unintelligible gibberish at him.

Korra felt the eyes of a crowd on her as she grew increasingly more nervous.

" 'Sorry,' " the human mimicked derisively, clearly deep into his own cups. "Are you insulting us? You just better watch yourself. We're all wanted." He indicated his drunken companions. "I have the death sentence on me in twelve different systems."

"I'll be careful, then," Korra muttered.

The little man was smiling broadly. "You'll be dead." At this the rodent let out a loud grunt. It was either a signal or a warning, because everything human or otherwise which had been leaning up at the bar immediately backed away, leaving a clear space around the trio and their antagonists. Trying to salvage the situation, Korra offered a wan smile. It faded rapidly when she saw that the three aliens were readying hand weapons. Not only was sure that neither Desna nor Eska would offer much help in a fight, she had no idea what a couple of the lethal-looking devices did.

"This little one isn't worth the trouble," a calm voice said. Korra looked up, startled. She hadn't heard Kenobi come up alongside them. "Come, let me buy you all something …" By way of reply the bulky monster chittered hideously and swung out a massive limb.

It caught an unprepared Korra across the temple and sent her spinning across the room, crashing through tables and shattering a large jug filled with a foul-smelling liquid. The crowd edged back farther, a few grunts and warning snorts coming from some of them as the drunken monstrosity pulled a wicked-looking pistol from its service pouch. He started to wave it in Kenobi's direction. That spurred the formerly neutral bartender to life. He came charging clumsily around the end of the bar, waving his hands frantically but still taking care to stay out of range. "No blasters, no blasters! Not in my place!"

The rodent thing chattered threateningly at him, while the weapon-wielding many-eye spared him a warning grunt. In the split second when the gun and its owner's attention was off him, the old man's hand had moved to the disk slung at his side. The short human started to yell as a fiery blue-white light appeared in the dimness of the cantina. He never finished the yell. It turned into a blink. When the blink was finished, the man found himself lying prone against the bar, moaning and whimpering as he stared at the stump of an arm. In between the start of his yell and the conclusion of the blink, the rodent-thing had been cleft cleanly down the middle, its two halves falling in opposite directions. The giant multi-eyed creature still stood staring, dazed, at the old human who was poised motionless before it, the shining lightsaber held over his head in a peculiar fashion.

The creature's chrome pistol fired once, blowing a hole in the door. Then the torso peeled away as neatly as had the body of the rodent, its two cauterized sections falling in opposite directions to lie motionless on the cool stone. Only then did the suggestion of a sigh escape from Kenobi; only then did his body appear to relax. Bringing the lightsaber down, he flipped it carefully upward in a reflex saluting motion which ended with the deactivated weapon resting innocuously on his hip. That final movement broke the total quiet which had enshrouded the room. Conversation resumed, as did the movement of bodies in chairs, the scraping of mugs and pitchers and other drinking devices on tabletops.

The bartender and several assistants appeared to drag the unsightly corpses out of the room, while the mutilated human vanished wordlessly into the crowd, cradling the stump of his gun arm and counting himself fortunate. To all appearances the cantina had returned to its former state, with one small exception. Tenzin Kenobi was given a respectful amount of space at the bar. Korra barely heard the renewed conversation. She was still shaken by the speed of the fight and by the old man's unimagined abilities. As her mind cleared and Eska helped her to her feet, Korra and the twins moved to rejoin Kenobi, catching bits and snatches of the talk around her.

Much of it centered on admiration for the cleanness and finality of the fight. "You're hurt, Korra," Desna observed solicitously.

Korra felt the bruise where the big creature had struck her. "I …" she started to say, but old Tenzin cut her off. As if nothing had happened, he indicated the young man which was shouldering his way through the crowd toward them.

"This is Bolin," he explained when the boy had joined them at the bar. "He's first mate on a ship that might suit our needs. He'll take us to her captain-owner now."

"This way," the boy grunted—at least, it sounded something like that to Desna. In any case, the follow-me gesture was unmistakable. They started to wend their way deeper into the bar, Bolin parting the crowd like a gravel storm cutting canyonettes. Korra had appropriated someone else's drink from a waiter's tray as they made their way to the rear of the cantina. She gulped at it with the giddy air of one who feels herself under divine protection. That safe she was not, but in the company of Kenobi and the giant boulder of a boy, she began to feel confident that no one in the bar would assault her with so much as a dirty look.

In a rear booth they encountered a sharp-featured, slim, and tall young man, maybe two years older than Korra. He was also dressed in a flight uniform, similar to Bolin's, though black in colour with navy trousers that bore a yellow stripe on each leg. To top his outfit off, wrapped loosely around his neck was a well-worn red scarf. He displayed the openness of the utterly confident—or the insanely reckless. At their approach, Bolin rumbled something at the man, and he nodded in response, glancing up at the newcomers pleasantly. "You're pretty handy with that saber, old man. Not often does one see that kind of swordplay in this part of the Empire anymore." He downed a prodigious portion of whatever filled his mug. "I'm Mako Solo, captain of the Millennium Falcon." Suddenly he became all business. "This is Bolin, my younger brother. He tells me you're looking for passage to the Alderaan system?" With short, spiked black hair and auburn eyes, Korra would never have guessed he and the boulder of a boy were related.

"That's right, son. If it's on a fast ship," Kenobi told him.

Solo didn't bridle at the "son." "Fast ship? You mean you've never heard of the Millennium Falcon?"

Kenobi appeared amused. "Should I have?"

"It's the ship that made the Kessel run in less than twelve standard time-parts!" Solo told him indignantly. "I've outrun Equalist starships and Corellian cruisers. I think she's fast enough for you, old man." His outrage subsided rapidly. "What's your cargo?"

"Only passengers. Myself, Korra, Desna, and Eska—no questions asked."

"No questions." Mako regarded his mug, finally looked up. "Is it local trouble?"

"Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Equalist entanglements," Kenobi replied easily.

"These days that can be a real trick. It'll cost you a little extra." Mako did some mental figuring. "All in all, about ten thousand. In advance." He added with a smile, "And no questions asked."

Korra gaped at the pilot. "Ten thousand! We could almost buy our own ship for that."

Solo shrugged. "Maybe you could and maybe you couldn't. In any case, could you fly it?"

"You bet I could," Korra shot back, rising. "I'm not such a bad pilot myself. I don't—"Again a firm hand on her arm pulled her back into her seat.

"We haven't that much with us," Kenobi explained. "But we could pay you two thousand now, plus another fifteen when we reach Alderaan."

Solo leaned forward uncertainly. "Fifteen … You can really get your hands on that kind of money?"

"I promise it—from the government on Alderaan itself. At the worst, you'll have earned an honest fee: two thousand."

But Solo seemed not to hear the last. "Seventeen thousand … All right, I'll chance it. You've got yourselves a ship. As for avoiding Equalist entanglements, you'd better twist out of here or even the Millennium Falcon won't be any help to you." He nodded toward the cantina entrance, and added quickly, "Docking bay ninety-four, first thing in the morning."

* * *

Four Equalist troopers, their eyes darting rapidly from table to booth to bar, had entered the cantina. There was muttering from among the crowd, but whenever the eyes of one of the heavily armed troopers went hunting for the mutterers, the words died with sullen speed. Moving to the bar, the officer in charge asked the bartender a couple of brief questions. The big man hesitated a moment, then pointed toward a place near the back of the room. As he did so, his eyes widened slightly. Those of the officer were unreadable. The booth he was pointing to was empty.


	7. Chapter 7: Escape

Chapter 7: Escape

* * *

Korra and Tenzin were securing some supplies into the speeder while Eska and Desna kept a lookout for any additional troops. "If Solo's ship is as fast as his boasting, we should be all right," the old man observed with satisfaction.

"But two thousand—and fifteen more when we reach Alderaan!" Korra exclaimed.

"It's not the fifteen that worries me; it's the first two," Kenobi explained. "I'm afraid you'll have to sell your speeder."

Korra let her gaze rove over the landspeeder, but the thrill it had once given her was gone—gone along with other things best not dwelt on. "It's all right," she assured Kenobi listlessly. "I don't think I'll need it again."

* * *

From their vantage point in another booth, Mako and Bolin watched as the Equalists strode through the bar. Two of them gave the brothers a lingering glance. Bolin scowled once and the two soldiers hurried their pace somewhat. Mako grinned sardonically, turning to his partner. "Bolin, this charter could save our necks. Seventeen thousand!" He shook his head in amazement. "Those four must really be desperate. I wonder what they're wanted for. But I agreed, no questions. They're paying enough for it. Let's get going—the Falcon won't check itself out."

"Going somewhere, Solo?" The brothers couldn't identify the voice, coming as it did through an electronic translator. But there was no problem recognizing the speaker or the gun it held stuck in Mako's side. The creature was roughly man-sized and bipedal, but its head was something out of delirium by way of an upset stomach. It had huge, dull-faceted eyes, bulbous on a pea-green face. A ridge of short spines crested the high skull, while nostrils and mouth were contained in a tapirlike snout.

"As a matter of fact," Mako replied slowly, "I was just on my way to see your boss. You can tell Ozai I've got the money I owe him."

"That's what you said yesterday—and last week—and the week prior to that. It's too late, Solo. I'm not going back to Ozai with another one of your stories."

"But I've really got the money this time!" Mako protested.

"Fine. I'll take it now, please." Mako sat down slowly. Ozai's minions were apt to be cursed with nervous trigger fingers. The alien took the seat across from him, the muzzle of the ugly little pistol never straying from Mako's chest.

"I haven't got it here with me. Tell Ozai—"

"It's too late, I think. Ozai would rather have your ship."

"Over my dead body," Mako said unamiably.

The alien was not impressed. "If you insist. Will you come outside with me, or must I finish it here?"

"I don't think they'd like another killing in here," Mako pointed out. Something which might have been a laugh came from the creature's translator.

"They'd hardly notice. Get up, Solo. I've been looking forward to this for a long time. You've embarrassed me in front of Ozai with your pious excuses for the last time."

"I think you're right." Light and noise filled the little corner of the cantina, and when it had faded, all that remained of the unctuous alien was a smoking, slimy spot on the stone floor. The elder Solo brought his hand and the smoking weapon it held out from beneath the table, drawing bemused stares from several of the cantina's patrons and clucking sounds from its more knowledgeable ones. They had known the creature had committed its fatal mistake in allowing Mako the chance to get his hands under cover. "It'll take a lot more than the likes of you to finish me off. Ozai always did skimp when it came to hiring his hands."

Leaving the booth, Mako flipped the bartender a handful of coins as he and Bolin moved off. "Sorry for the mess. I always was a rotten host."

* * *

Heavily armed Equalist troopers hurried down the narrow alleyway, glowering from time to time at the darkly clad beings who hawked exotic goods from dingy little stalls. Here in Mos Eisley's inner regions the walls were high and narrow, turning the passageway into a tunnel. No one stared angrily back at them; no one shouted imprecations or mouthed obscenities. These armored figures moved with the authority of the Empire, their sidearms boldly displayed and activated. All around, men, not-men, and mechanicals were crouched in waste-littered doorways. Among accumulations of garbage and filth they exchanged information and concluded transactions of dubious legality. A hot wind moaned down the alleyway and the troopers closed their formation. Their precision and order masked a fear of such claustrophobic quarters.

One paused to check a door, only to discover it tightly locked and bolted. A sand-encrusted human shambling nearby visited a half-mad harangue on the trooper. Shrugging inwardly, the soldier gave the crazy human a sour eye before moving on down the alley to join up again with his fellows. As soon as they were well past, the door slid open a crack and a stoic face peered out. "I would have preferred to go with Korra and Tenzin than to be left here. What do we do if we're found?" Desna asked, concerned at their predicament.

"I do not know, brother. Let us hope we aren't found." With that, Eska slid the door shut, hiding them from view.

* * *

Around the corner, Korra and Tenzin stood bargaining with the tall, slightly insectoid owner of a vehicle shop. They were here not to buy, but to sell. None of the passersby favored the hagglers with so much as a curious glance. Similar transactions which were the business of no one but the transactors took place half a thousand times daily in Mos Eisley. Eventually there were no more pleas or threats to be exchanged. As though doling out vials of his own blood, the owner finalized the sale by passing a number of small metal shapes to Korra. Korra and the insectoid traded formal goodbyes and then they parted, each convinced they had gotten the better of the deal.

"He says it's the best he can do. Since the XP-38 came out, this model of speeder just isn't in demand anymore," Korra sighed.

"Don't look so discouraged," Kenobi chided her. "What you've obtained will be sufficient. I've enough to cover the rest." Leaving the main street, they turned down an alleyway and walked past a small robot herding along a group of smaller repair robots. As they rounded the corner, Korra strained for a forlorn glimpse of the old landspeeder—her last link with her former life. Then there was no more time for looking back.

Something short and dark that might have been human underneath all its wrappings stepped out of the shadows as they moved away from the corner. It continued staring after them as they disappeared down a bend in the walkway.

* * *

The docking-bay entrance to the small saucer-shaped spacecraft was completely ringed by half a dozen men and aliens, of which the former were by half the most grotesque. Mako and Bolin surveyed the semicircle of armed assassins, and watched as the leader moved forward with a look of satisfaction on his face. Moving forward from the center of the crescent, he shouted toward the ship. "Come on out, Solo! We've got you surrounded."

"If so, you're facing the wrong way," came a calm voice. Ozai jumped—in itself a remarkable sight. His lackeys likewise whirled—to see Mako Solo and Bolin Solo standing behind them. "You see, we've been waiting for you, Ozai."

"I expected you would be," the gang leader admitted, at once pleased and alarmed by the fact that neither Mako nor Bolin appeared to be armed.

"We're not the type to run," Mako said.

"Run? Run from what!" Ozai countered. The absence of visible weapons bothered Ozai more than he cared to admit to himself. There was something peculiar here, and it would be better to make no hasty moves until he discovered what was amiss. "Mako, my boy, there are times when you disappoint me. I merely wish to know why you haven't paid me … as you should have long ago. And why did you have to fry poor Shin like that? After all you and I have been through together."

Mako grinned tightly. "Shove it, Ozai. There isn't enough sentiment in your body to warm an orphaned bacterium. As for Shady Shin, you sent him to kill us."

"Why, Mako," Ozai protested in surprise. "Why would I do that? You guys are the best smuggler in the business. You're too valuable to fry. Shin was only relaying my natural concern at your delays. He wasn't going to kill you."

"I think he thought he was. Next time don't send one of those hired twerps. If you've got something to say, come see me yourself."

Ozai shook his head and laughed, lazy, empty echoes of his mock sorrow. "Mako, Mako—if only you hadn't had to dump that shipment of spice! You understand … I just can't make an exception. Where would I be if every pilot who smuggled for me dumped his shipment at the first sign of an Equalist warship? And then simply showed empty pockets when I demanded recompense? It's not good business. I can be generous and forgiving—but not to the point of bankruptcy."

"You know, even I get boarded sometimes, Ozai. Did you think I dumped that spice because I got tired of its smell? I wanted to deliver it as much as you wanted to receive it. I had no choice." Again the sardonic smile. "As you say, I'm too valuable to fry. But I've got a charter now and I can pay you back, plus a little extra. I just need some more time. I can give you a thousand on account, the rest in three weeks."

The gang leaser seemed to consider, then directed his next words not to Mako but to his hirelings. "Put your blasters away." His gaze and a predatory smile turned to the wary pair of brothers. "Mako, Bolin my boys, I'm only doing this because you're the best and I'll need you again sometime. So, out of the greatness of my soul and a forgiving heart—and for an extra, say, twenty percent—I'll give you a little more time." The voice nearly cracked with restraint. "But this is the last time. If you disappoint me again, if you trample my generosity in your mocking laughter, I'll put a price on your heads so large you won't be able to go near a civilized system for the rest of your lives, because on every one your names and faces will be known to men who'll gladly cut your guts out for one-tenth of what I'll promise them."

"I'm glad we both have our best interests at heart," replied Mako pleasantly as he and Bolin started past the staring eyes of Ozai's hired guns. "Don't worry, Ozai, I'll pay you. But not because you threatened us. I'll pay you because … it's my pleasure."

* * *

"They're starting to search the spaceport central," the Commander declared, having to alternately run a couple of steps and then walk to keep pace with the long strides of Darth Amon. The Dark Lord was deep in thought as he strode down one of the battle station's main corridors, trailed by several aides. "The reports are just starting to come in," the Commander went on. "It's only a matter of time before we have those diplomats."

"Send in more men if you have to. Never mind the protests of the planetary Governor—I must have the tapes those two have. It's Senator Sato's hope of that data being used against us that is the pillar of her resistance to the mind probes."

"I understand, Lord Amon. Until then we must waste our time with Governor Tarrlok's foolish plan to break her."

* * *

"There's docking bay ninety-four," Korra told Tenzin and the twins who had rejoined them, "and there's Bolin. He seems excited about something." Indeed, the big man was waving over the heads of the crowd and yelling loudly in their direction. Speeding their pace, none of the foursome noticed the small, dark-clad _thing_ that had followed them from the transporter lot. The creature moved into the doorway and pulled a tiny transmitter from a pouch concealed by its multifold robes. The transmitter looked far too new and modern to be in the grasp of so decrepit a specimen, yet its manipulator was speaking into it with steady assurance.

Docking bay ninety-four, Korra noted, was no different in appearance from a host of other grandiosely named docking bays scattered throughout Mos Eisley. It consisted mostly of an entrance rampway and an enormous pit gouged from the rocky soil. This served as clearance radii for the effects of the simple antigrav drive which boosted all spacecraft clear of the gravitational field of the planet. The mathematics of spacedrive were simple enough even to Korra. Antigrav could operate only when there was a sufficient gravity well to push against—like that of a planet—whereas hyperspace travel could only take place when a ship was clear of that same gravity, hence the necessity for the dual-drive system on any extra-system craft.

The pit which formed docking bay ninety-four was as shabbily cut and run-down as the majority of Mos Eisley. Its sloping sides were crumbling in places instead of being smoothly fashioned as they were on more populous worlds. Korra felt it formed the perfect setting for the spacecraft Bolin was leading them toward. That battered ellipsoid which could only loosely be labeled a ship appeared to have been pieced together out of old hull fragments and components discarded as unusable by other craft. The wonder of it, Korra mused, was that the thing actually held its shape. Trying to picture this vehicle as spaceworthy would have caused her to collapse in hysteria—were the situation not so serious. But to think of traveling to Alderaan in this pathetic …

"What a piece of junk," she finally murmured, unable to hide her feelings any longer.

"Hey now," Bolin cut in, "Don't let Mako hear you saying that. He might not let you on board!"

They were walking up the rampway toward the open port. "This thing couldn't possibly make it into hyperspace." Korra laughed.

Kenobi didn't comment, but merely gestured toward the port, where a figure was coming to meet them. Either Mako had supernaturally acute hearing, or else he was used to the reaction the sight of the Millennium Falcon produced in prospective passengers.

"She may not look like much," he confessed as he approached them, "but she's all go. I've added a few unique modifications to her myself. In addition to piloting, I like to tinker. She'll make point five factors beyond lightspeed." Korra scratched her head as she tried to reassess the craft in view of its owner's claims.

Either the tall man was the biggest liar this side of the galactic center, or there was more to this vessel than met the eye. Korra thought back once more to old Tenzin's admonition never to trust surface impressions, and decided to reserve judgment on the ship and its pilot until after she had watched them in operation.

Bolin had lingered behind at the docking-bay entrance. Now he rushed up the ramp, a muscular whirlwind, and spoke hurriedly to his brother. The pilot regarded him coolly, nodding from time to time, then barked a brief reply. Bolin charged into the ship, pausing only to urge everyone to follow. "We seem to be a bit rushed," Bolin explained cryptically, "so if you'll hurry aboard, we'll be off."

Korra was about to venture some questions, but Kenobi was already prodding her up the ramp. The twins followed, confused but happy at the prospect of finally being off of the sand-ridden planet. Inside, Korra was slightly startled to see the bulky Bolin squirm and fight his way into a pilot's chair which, despite modifications, was still overwhelmed by his massive form. The young man flipped several tiny switches with digits seemingly too big for the task. His large hands drifted with surprising grace over the controls. A deep throbbing started somewhere within the ship as the engines were activate. Korra, Tenzin, and the twins began strapping themselves into the vacant seats in the main passageway.

Outside the docking-bay entrance a long, leathery snout protruded from dark folds of cloth, and somewhere in the depths to either side of that imposing proboscis, eyes stared intently. They turned, along with the rest of the head, as a squad of eight Equalist troops rushed up. Perhaps not surprisingly, they headed straight for the enigmatic figure who whispered something to the lead trooper and gestured to the docking bay.

The information must have been provocative. Activating their weapons and raising them to firing position, the troopers charged en masse down the docking-bay entrance. A glint of light on moving metal caught Mako's eyes as the unwelcome outlines of the first troopers showed themselves. The elder Solo thought it unlikely they would pause to engage in casual conversation. His suspicion was confirmed before he could open his mouth to protest their intrusion, as several dropped to their knees and opened fire on him.

Mako ducked back inside, turning to yell forward. "Bolin—deflector shields, quick! Get us out of here!" A throaty yell of acknowledgment came back to him.

Drawing his own pistol, Mako managed to snap off a couple of bursts from the comparative safety of the hatchway. Seeing that their quarry was neither helpless nor comatose, the exposed troopers dove for cover. The low throbbing rose to a whine, then to a deafening howl as Mako's hand came down on the quick-release button. Immediately the overhead hatch cover slammed shut. As the retreating troops raced out of the docking-bay entrance, the ground was trembling steadily. They ran smack into a second squad, which had just arrived in response to the rapidly spreading emergency call. One of the soldiers, gesticulating wildly, tried to explain to the newly arrived ranking officer what had happened back in the bay.

As soon as the panting trooper had finished, the officer whipped out a compact communicator and shouted into it, "Flight deck … they're trying to escape! Send everything you've got after this ship." All across Mos Eisley, alarms began to sound, spreading out from docking bay ninety-four in concentric circles of concern. Several soldiers scouring one alleyway reacted to the city-wide alarm at the same time as they saw the small freighter lift gracefully into the clear blue sky above Mos Eisley. It shrank to a pinpoint before any of them thought to bring a weapon to bear.

* * *

Korra, Desna, Eska, and Tenzin were already undoing their acceleration straps as Mako walked past them, moving toward the cockpit with the easy, loose-limbed stride of the experienced spacer. Once forward, he fell rather than sat in the pilot's seat and immediately began checking readouts and gauges. In the seat next to him Bolin let out a large sigh of relief, happy to have escaped the Equalist soldiers. He turned from studying his own instruments long enough to jab a massive finger at the tracking screen. "Looks like we have some company, bro."

Mako gave it a quick glance, then turned irritably to his own panel. "I know, I know … looks like two, maybe three destroyers. Somebody certainly dislikes our passengers. Sure picked ourselves a hot one this time. Try to hold them off somehow until I can finish the programming for the hyperspace jump. Angle the deflectors for maximum shielding." With those instructions he ceased conversing with his brother as his hands flew over the computer input terminals. Mako did not even turn around when Eska momentarily popped into the cockpit, full of questions for the brothers. Sensing the air of seriousness, Eska figured she would wait until they were in the clear to pester the pilots.

Rear scanners showed the baleful lemon eye of Tatooine shrinking rapidly behind them. It wasn't rapid enough to eliminate the three points of light that indicated the presence of the pursuing Imperial warships. Although Mako had ignored Eska at first, he turned to acknowledge the re-entrance of her and the other three passengers. "We've got two more coming in from different angles," he told them, scrutinizing the remorseless instrumentation. "They're going to try to box up before we can jump. Five ships … What did you two do to attract that kind of company?"

"Can't you outrun them?" Korra asked sarcastically, ignoring the pilot's question. "I thought you said this thing was fast."

"Watch your mouth, kid, or you'll find yourself floating home. There's too many of 'em, for one thing. But, we'll be safe enough once we've made the jump into hyperspace." He grinned knowingly. "Can't nobody track another ship accurately at supralight speeds. Plus, I know a few tricks that ought to lose any persistent stick-tights. I wish I'd known you four were so popular."

"Why?" Desna said challengingly. "Would you have refused to take us?"

"Not necessarily," Mako replied, refusing to be baited. "But I sure's hell would've boosted your fare." Korra had a retort poised on her lips. It was wiped out as she threw up her arms to ward off a brilliant red flash which flew past them into the blackness of space. Tenzin, Mako, and even Bolin did likewise, since the proximity of the explosion nearly overrode the phototropic shielding.

"Here's where the situation gets interesting," Bolin muttered.

"How long before you can make the jump?" Tenzin inquired easily, apparently unconcerned that at any second they all might cease to exist.

"We're still within the gravitational influence of Tatooine," came the cool response. "It will be a few minutes yet before the navigation computer can compensate and effect an accurate jump. I could override its decision, but the hyperdrive would likely shred itself. That would give me a nice hold full of scrap metal in addition to you four."

"A few minutes," Korra blurted, staring at the screens. "At the rate they're gaining …"

"Traveling through hyperspace isn't like dusting crops, girl. Ever tried calculating a hyperspace jump?" Korra had to shake her head. "It's no mean trick. Be nice if we rushed it and passed right through a star or some other friendly spatial phenom like a black hole. That would end our trip real quick."

Fresh explosions continued to flare close by despite Bolin's best efforts at evasion. On Mako's console a red warning light began to flash for attention. "What's that?" Korra wondered nervously.

"We're losing a deflector shield," Mako informed her with the air of a man about to have a tooth pulled. "Better strap yourselves back in. We're almost ready to make the jump. It could get bad if we take a near-hit at the wrong moment."

Back in the main hold area Desna and Eska were already strapping themselves in to the seats lining the hull. The concussion produced by increasingly powerful energy bursts against the ship's deflectors was knocking them off balance as they tried to secure themselves. "Was this trip really necessary?" the female muttered in desperation.

"I'd forgotten how much I hate space travel." Desna added. He broke off as Korra and Tenzin appeared and began strapping themselves back into their chairs as well. Oddly, Korra was thinking of Senator Asami Sato, when an immensely powerful something wrenched at the ship's hull with the strength of a fallen angel.

* * *

Admiral Ghazan entered the quiet conference room, his face streaked by the linear lights lining the walls. His gaze went to the spot where Governor Tarrlok stood before the curved viewscreen, and he bowed slightly. Despite the evidence of the small green gem of a world entered in the screen, he formally announced, "We have entered the Alderaan system. We await your order."

The door signaled and Tarrlok made a falsely gentle gesture to the admiral. "Wait a moment yet, Ghazan." The door slid aside and Asami Sato entered, flanked by two armed guards, followed by Darth Amon. "I am—" Tarrlok began.

"I know who you are," she spat, "Governor Tarrlok. I should have expected to find you holding Amon's leash. I thought I recognized your unique stench when I was first brought on board."

"Charming to the last," Tarrlok declared in a fashion which suggested he was anything but charmed. "You don't know how hard I found it to sign the order for your termination." His expression changed to one of mock sorrow. "Of course, had you cooperated in our investigation, things might be otherwise. Lord Amon has informed me that your resistance to our traditional methods of inquiry—"

"Torture, you mean," the young woman countered a trifle shakily.

"Let us not bandy semantics," Tarrlok smiled.

"I'm surprised you had the courage to take the responsibility for issuing the order on yourself." Asami snapped back.

Tarrlok sighed reluctantly. "I am a dedicated man, and the pleasures I reserve for myself are few. One of them is that before your execution I should like you to be my guest at a small ceremony. It will certify this battle station's operational status while at the same time ushering in a new era of Equalist technical supremacy. This station is the final link in the new-forged Equalist chain which will bind the million systems of the galactic Empire together once and for all. Your petty Alliance will no longer be of any concern to us. After today's demonstration no one will dare to oppose Equalist decree, not even the Senate."

Asami looked at him with contempt. "Force will not keep the Empire together. Force has never kept anything together for very long. The more you tighten your grip, the more systems will slip through your fingers. You're a foolish man, Governor. Foolish men often choke to death on their own delusions."

Tarrlok smiled a death's-head smile, his face a parchment skull's. "It will be interesting to see what manner of passing Lord Amon has in mind for you. I am certain it will be worthy of you—and of him. "But before you leave us, we must demonstrate the power of this station once and for all, in a conclusive fashion. In a way, you have determined the choice of subject for this demonstration. Since you have proven reluctant to supply us with the location of the rebel stronghold, I have deemed it appropriate to select as an alternate subject your home planet of Alderaan."

"No! You can't! Alderaan is a peaceful world, with no standing armies. You can't …" Asami trailed off, voice and eyes scared by the threat.

Tarrlok's eyes gleamed. "You would prefer another target? A military target, perhaps? We're agreeable … name the system." He shrugged elaborately. "I grow tired of such games. For the last time, where is the main rebel base?"

A voice announced over a hidden speaker that they had approached within antigrav range of Alderaan—approximately six planetary diameters. That was enough to accomplish what all of Amon's infernal devices had failed to.

"Dantooine," she whispered, staring at the deck, all pretense at defiance gone now. "They're on Dantooine."

Tarrlok let out a slow sigh of satisfaction, then turned to the black figure nearby. "There, you see, Lord Amon? She can be reasonable. One need only frame the question properly to elicit the desired response." He directed his attention to the other officers. "After concluding our little test here we shall make haste to move on to Dantooine. You may proceed with the operation, gentlemen.

It took several seconds for Tarrlok's words, so casually uttered, to penetrate. "What!" Asami finally gasped.

"Dantooine," Tarrlok explained, examining his fingers, "is too far from the centers of Equalist population to serve as the subject of an effective demonstration. You will understand that for reports of our power to spread rapidly through the Empire we require a highly populated world more centrally located. Have no fear, though. We will deal with your rebel friends on Dantooine as soon as possible."

"But you said …" Asami started to protest.

"The only words which have meaning are the last ones spoken," Tarrlok declared cuttingly. "We will proceed with the destruction of Alderaan as planned. Then you will enjoy watching with us as we obliterate the Dantooine center of this stupid and futile rebellion." He gestured to the two soldiers flanking her. "Escort her to the principal observation level and," he smiled, "make certain she is provided with an unobstructed view."


	8. Chapter 8: Search and Rescue

Chapter 8: Search and Rescue

* * *

Mako was busily checking readouts from gauges and dials in the hold area. Occasionally he would pass a small box across various sensors, study the result, and cluck with pleasure. "You can stop worrying about your Equalist friends," he told Korra and Tenzin. "They'll never be able to track us now. Told you I'd lose them." Kenobi might have nodded briefly in response, but he was engaged in explaining something to Korra.

"Don't everybody thank me at once," Mako grunted, slightly miffed. "Anyway, navigation computer calculates our arrival in Alderaan orbit at oh-two-hundred. I'm afraid after this little adventure I'll have to forge a new registration." He returned to his checking, passing in front of a small circular table. The top was covered with small squares lit from beneath, while small round game pieces were scattered across the board.

Bolin sat hunched over one side of the table, his chin resting in massive hands. His green eyes glowing with amusement and lips tipped upward in a smirk, he gave every sign of being well pleased with himself. At least, he did until Eska reached up with her small hand across from him and moved one of her pieces, effectively removing one of Bolin's own. An expression of puzzlement, then anger crossed the boy's face as he studied the new configuration. Glaring up at the girl from across the table, he vented a stream of abusive curses at the game board.

Eska only offered a short chuckle in reply, but Desna soon interceded on behalf of his less eloquent companion and began arguing with the hulking young man. "She executed a fair move. Getting angry about it won't help you." Desna said, confused by Bolin's reaction.

Attracted by the commotion, Mako looked back over his shoulder, laughing slightly. "He's always been a sore loser when it comes to Pai Sho."

"Hey!" Bolin exclaimed, "I'm never a sore loser, I just never lose. She has to be cheating somehow." He teasingly stuck his tongue out at Eska, but the playfulness was lost on her as she frowned slightly.

Oblivious to the altercation, Korra stood frozen in the middle of the hold. She held an activated lightsaber in position over her head. A low hum came from the ancient instrument while Korra lunged and parried under Tenzin Kenobi's instructive gaze. As Mako glanced from time to time at Korra's awkward movements, his lean features were sprinkled with smugness.

"No, Korra, your cuts should flow, don't be so choppy," Tenzin instructed gently. "Remember, the Force is omnipresent. It envelops you as it radiates from you. A Jedi warrior can actually feel the Force as a physical thing."

"It is an energy field, then?" Korra inquired.

"It is an energy field and something more," Tenzin went on, almost mystically. "An aura that at once controls and obeys. It is a nothingness that can accomplish miracles." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "No one, not even the Jedi scientists, were able to truly define the Force. Possibly no one ever will. Sometimes there is as much magic as science in the explanations of the Force. Yet what is a magician but a practicing theorist? Now, let's try again."

The old man was hefting a silvery globe about the size of a man's fist. It was covered with fine antennae, some as delicate as those of a moth. He flipped it toward Korra, and watched as it halted a couple of meters away from the girls's face. Korra readied herself as the ball circled her slowly, turning to face it as it assumed a new position. Abruptly it executed a lightning-swift lunge, only to freeze about a meter away. Korra failed to succumb to the feint, and the ball soon backed off. Moving slowly to one side in an effort to get around the ball's fore sensors, Korra drew the saber back preparatory to striking. As she did so the ball darted in behind her.

A thin pencil of red light jumped from one of the antennae to the back of Korra's thigh, knocking her to the deck even as she was bringing her saber around—too late. Rubbing at her tingling, sleeping leg, Korra tried to ignore the burst of accusing laughter from Mako.

"Hocus-pocus religions and archaic weapons are no substitute for a good blaster at your side," the pilot sneered.

"You don't believe in the Force?" asked Korra, struggling back to her feet. The numbing effect of the beam wore off quickly.

"I've been from one end of this galaxy to the other," the pilot boasted, "and I've seen a lot of strange things. Too many to believe there couldn't be something like this 'Force.' Too many to think that there could be some such thing controlling one's actions. I determine my destiny—not some half-mystical energy field." He gestured toward Tenzni.

"I wouldn't follow him so blindly, if I were you. He's a clever old man full of simple tricks and mischief. He might be using you for his own ends."

Kenobi only smiled gently, then turned back to face Korra. "I suggest you try it again, Korra," he said soothingly. "You must try to divorce your actions from conscious control. Try not to focus on anything concrete, visually or mentally. You must let your mind drift, drift; only then can you use the Force. You have to enter a state in which you act on what you sense, not on what you think beforehand. You must cease cogitation, relax, stop thinking … let yourself drift … free … free …"

The old man's voice had dropped to a mesmerizing buzz. As he finished, the chrome bulb darted at Korra. Dazed by Kenobi's hypnotic tone, Korra didn't see it charge. It's doubtful she saw much of anything with clarity. But as the ball neared, she whirled with amazing speed, the saber arcing up and out in a peculiar fashion. The red beam that the globe emitted was neatly deflected to one side. Its humming stopped and the ball bounced to the deck, all animation gone. Blinking as if coming awake from a short nap, Korra stared in absolute astonishment at the inert remote.

"You see, you can do it," Kenobi told her. "One can teach only so much. Now you must learn to admit the Force when you want it, so that you can learn to control it consciously." Moving to one side, Kenobi took a large helmet from behind a locker and walked over to Korra. Placing the helmet over her head effectively eliminated the girl's vision.

"I can't see," Korra muttered, turning around and forcing Kenobi to step back out of range of the dangerously wavering saber. "How can I fight?

"With the Force," old Tenzin explained. "You didn't really 'see' the seeker when it went for your legs the last time, and yet you parried its beam. Try to let that sensation flow within you again."

"I can't do it," Korra moaned. "I'll get hit again."

"Not if you let yourself trust you," Kenobi insisted, none too convincingly for Korra. "This is the only way to be certain you're relying wholly on the Force."

Noticing that the skeptical pilot had turned to watch, Kenobi hesitated momentarily. It did Korra no good to have the self-assured pilot laugh every time a mistake was made. But coddling the girl would do her no good either, and there was no time for it anyway. Throw her in and hope she floats, Tenzin instructed himself firmly. Bending over the chrome globe, he touched a control at its side. Then he tossed it straight up.

It arched toward Korra. Braking in midfall, the ball plummeted stone-like toward the deck. Korra swung the saber at it. While it was a commendable try, it wasn't nearly fast enough. Once again the little antenna glowed. This time the crimson needle hit Korra square on the seat of her blue pants. Though it wasn't an incapacitating blow, it felt like one; and Korra let out a yelp of pain as she spun, trying to strike her invisible tormentor.

"Relax!" Tenzin urged her. "Be free. You're trying to use your eyes and ears. Stop predicting and use the rest of your mind."

Suddenly the youth stopped, wavering slightly. The seeker was still behind her. Changing direction again, it made another dive and fired. Simultaneously the lightsaber jerked around, as accurate as it was awkward in its motion, to deflect the bolt. This time the ball didn't fall motionless to the deck. Instead it backed up three meters and remained there, hovering. Aware that the drone of the seeker remote no longer assaulted her ears, a cautious Korra peeked out from under the helmet. Sweat and exhaustion competed for space on her light brown face. "Did I—?"

"I told you you could," Kenobi informed her with pleasure. "Once you start to trust your inner self there'll be no stopping you. I told you there was much of your father in you."

"I'd call it luck," snorted Mako as he concluded his examination of the readouts.

"In my experience there is no such thing as luck, my young friend—only highly favorable adjustments of multiple factors to incline events in one's favor."

"Call it what you like," the tall boy sniffed indifferently, "but good against a mechanical remote is one thing. Good against a living menace is another." As he was speaking a small telltale light on the far side of the hold had begun flashing.

Bolin noticed it and called out to his brother. Mako glanced at the board, then informed his passengers, "We're coming up on Alderaan. We'll be slowing down shortly and going back under lightspeed. Come on, Bolin." Rising from the game table, the larger boy followed his partner toward the cockpit. Korra watched them depart, but her mind wasn't on their imminent arrival at Alderaan. It was burning with something else, something that seemed to grow and mature at the back of her brain as she dwelt on it.

"You know," she murmured, "I did feel something. I could almost 'see' the outlines of the remote." She gestured at the hovering device behind her.

Tenzin's voice when he replied was solemn. "Korra, you've taken the first step into a larger universe."

* * *

Dozens of humming, buzzing instruments lent the freighter's cockpit the air of a busy hive. Mako and Bolin had their attention locked on the most vital of those instruments. "Steady … stand by, Bolin." Mako adjusted several manual compensators. "Ready to go sublight … ready … cut us in, Bo." The emerald-eyed boy turned something on the console before him. At the same time Mako pulled back on a comparatively large lever.

Abruptly the long streaks of Doppler-distorted starlight slowed to hyphen shapes, then finally to familiar bolts of fire. A gauge on the console registered zero. Gigantic chunks of glowing stone appeared out of the nothingness, barely shunted aside by the ship's deflectors. The strain caused the Millennium Falcon to begin shuddering violently. "What the—?" a thoroughly startled Mako muttered. Next to him, Bolin offered no comment of his own as he flipped off several controls and activated others. Only the fact that the cautious Mako always emerged from supralight travel with his deflectors up—just in case any of many unfriendly folks might be waiting for him—had saved the freighter from instant destruction.

Korra fought to keep her balance as she made her way into the cockpit. "What's going on?" She asked, concerned by the amount of lights going off.

"We're back in normal space," Solo informed her, "but we've come out in the middle of the worst asteriod storm I've ever seen. It's not on any of our charts." He peered hard at several indicators. "According to the galactic atlas, our position is correct. Only one thing is missing: Alderaan."

"Missing? But—that's crazy!"

"I won't argue with you," the boy replied grimly, "but look for yourself." He gestured out the port. "I've triple-checked the coordinates, and there's nothing wrong with the navcomp. We ought to be standing out one planetary diameter from the surface. The planet's glow should be filling the cockpit, but—there's nothing out there. Nothing but debris." He paused. "Judging from the level of wild energy outside and the amount of solid waste, I'd guess that Alderaan's been … blown away. Totally."

"Destroyed," Korra whispered, overwhelmed at the specter raised by such an unimaginable disaster. "But—how?"

"The Empire," Desna declared firmly. He, Eska, and Tenzin had come in behind Korra, and his attention was held by the emptiness ahead as well as the import behind it.

"No." Mako was shaking his head slowly. In his own way even he was stunned by the enormity of what the quiet boy was suggesting. That a human agency had been responsible for the annihilation of an entire population, of a planet itself … "No … the entire Equalist fleet couldn't have done this. It would take a thousand ships massing a lot more firepower than has ever existed."

"I wonder if we should get out of here," Korra was murmuring, trying to see around the rims of the port. "If by some chance it was the Empire …"

"I don't know what's happened here," an angry Mako cursed, "but I'll tell you one thing. The Empire isn't—" Muffled alarms began humming loudly as a synchronous light flashed on the control console.

Mako bent to the appropriate instrumentation. "Another ship," he announced. "Can't judge the type yet."

"A survivor, maybe—someone who might know what happened," Korra ventured hopefully. The co-pilot's next words shattered more than that hope.

"That's an Equalist fighter." Bolin suddenly yelled. A huge flower of destruction blossomed outside the port, battering the freighter violently. A tiny, double-winged ball raced past the cockpit port.

"It followed us!" Korra shouted.

"From Tatooine? It couldn't have," objected a disbelieving Mako. "Not in hyperspace.

Kenobi was studying the configuration the tracking screen displayed. "You're quite right, Mako. It's the short-range TIE fighter."

"But where did it come from?" Bolin wanted to know. "There are no Equalist bases near here. It couldn't have been a TIE job."

"You saw it pass."

"I know. It looked like a TIE fighter—but what about a base?" Bolin asked, confused.

"It's leaving in a big hurry," Korra noted, studying the tracker. "No matter where it's going, if it identifies us we're in big trouble."

"Not if I can help it," Mako declared. "Bo, jam its transmission. Lay in a pursuit course."

"It would be best to let it go," Tenzin ventured thoughtfully. "It's already too far out of range."

"Not for long." Several minutes followed, during which the cockpit was filled with a tense silence. All eyes were on the tracking screen and viewport. At first the Equalist fighter tried a complex evasive course, to no avail. The surprisingly maneuverable freighter hung tight on its tail, continuing to make up the distance between them. Seeing that he couldn't shake his pursuers, the fighter pilot had obviously opened up his tiny engine all the way.

Ahead, one of the multitude of stars was becoming steadily brighter. Korra frowned. They were moving fast, but not nearly fast enough for any heavenly object to brighten so rapidly. Something here didn't make sense.

"Impossible for a fighter that small to be this deep in space on its own," Mako observed.

"It must have gotten lost, been part of a convoy or something," Korra hypothesized.

Mako's comment was gleeful. "Well, he won't be around long enough to tell anyone about us. We'll be on top of him in a minute or two." The star ahead continued to brighten, its glow evidently coming from within. It assumed a circular outline.

"He's heading for that small moon," Korra murmured.

"The Empire must have an outpost there," Mako admitted. "Although, according to the atlas, Alderaan had no moons." He shrugged it off. "Galactic topography was never one of my best subjects. I'm only interested in worlds and moons with customers on them. But I think I can get him before he gets there; he's almost in range." They drew steadily nearer. Gradually craters and mountains on the moon became visible.

Yet there was something extremely odd about them. The craters were far too regular in outline, the mountains far too vertical, canyons and valleys impossibly straight and regularized. Nothing as capricious as volcanic action had formed those features. "That's no moon," Tenzin breathed softly. "That's a space station."

"But it's too big to be a space station," Bolin objected. "The size of it! It can't be artificial—it can't!"

"I have a very strange feeling about this," was Korra's comment.

Abruptly the usually calm Kenobi was shouting. "Turn the ship around! Let's get out of here!"

"Yes, I think you're right, old man. Full reverse, Bolin." The younger Solo started adjusting controls, and the freighter seemed to slow, arcing around in a broad curve. The tiny fighter leaped instantly toward the monstrous station until it was swallowed up by its overpowering bulk.

Bolin yelled to Mako, "We're still moving!" as the ship shook and strained against unseen forces.

"Lock in auxiliary power!" Mako ordered. Gauges began to whine in protest, and by ones and twos every instrument on the control console sequentially went berserk. Try as he might, Bolin couldn't keep the surface of the gargantuan station from looming steadily larger, larger—until it became the heavens.

Korra stared wildly at secondary installations as big as mountains, dish antennae larger than all of Mos Eisley. "Why are we still moving toward it?"

"Too late," Tenzin whispered softly.

A glance at Mako confirmed his concern. "We're caught in a tractor beam—strongest one I ever saw. It's dragging us in," the pilot muttered.

"You mean, there's nothing you can do?" Korra asked, feeling unbelievably helpless, fear apparent in her crystal blue eyes.

Mako studied the overloaded sensor readouts and shook his head. "Not against this kind of power. I'm on full power myself, kid, and it's not shifting out of course a fraction of a degree. It's no use. I'm going to have to shut down or we'll melt our engines. But they're not going to suck me up like so much dust without a fight!" He started to vacate the pilot's chair, but was restrained by an aged yet powerful hand on his shoulder.

An expression of concern was on the old man's face—and yet, a suggestion of something somewhat less funereal. "If it's a fight you cannot win—well, my boy, there are always alternatives to fighting …"

* * *

The true size of the battle station became apparent as the freighter was pulled closer and closer. Running around the station's equator was an artificial cluster of metal mountains, docking ports stretching beckoning fingers nearly two kilometers above the surface. Now only a miniscule speck against the gray bulk of the station, the Millennium Falcon was sucked toward one of those steel pseudo-pods and finally swallowed by it. A lake of metal closed off the entryway, and the freighter vanished as if it had never existed.

Amon stared at the motley array of stars displayed on the conference-room map while Tarrlok and Admiral Ghazan conferred nearby. Interestingly, the first use of the most powerful destructive machine ever constructed had seemingly had no influence at all on that map, which in itself represented only a tiny fraction of this section of one modest-sized galaxy.

It would take a micro-breakdown of a portion of this map to reveal a slight reduction in spatial mass, caused by the disappearance of Alderaan. Alderaan, with its many cities, farms, factories, and towns—and traitors, Amon reminded himself. Despite his advances and intricate technological methods of annihilation, the actions of mankind remained unnoticeable to an uncaring, unimaginably vast universe. If Amon's grandest plans ever came to pass, all that would change. He was well aware that despite all their intelligence and drive, the vastness and wonder were lost on the two men who continued to chatter monkeylike behind him. Tarrlok and Ghazan were talented and ambitious, but they saw things only on the scale of human pettiness. It was a pity, Amon thought, that they did not possess the scope to match their abilities.

Still, neither man was a Dark Lord. As such, little more could be expected of them. These two were useful now, and dangerous, but someday they, like Alderaan, would have to be swept aside. For now he could not afford to ignore them. And while he would have preferred the company of equals, he had to admit reluctantly that at this point, he had no equals. Nonetheless, he turned to them and insinuated himself into their conversation. "The defense systems on Alderaan, despite the Senator's protestations to the contrary, were as strong as any in the Empire. I should conclude that our demonstration was as impressive as it was thorough."

Tarrlok turned to him, nodding. "The Senate is being informed of our action at this very moment. Soon we will be able to announce the extermination of the Alliance itself, as soon as we have dealt with their main military base. Now that their main source of munitions, Alderaan, has been eliminated, the rest of those systems with secessionist inclinations will fall in line quickly enough, you'll see." Tarrlok turned as an Imperial officer entered the chamber. "Yes, what is it, Cass?"

The unlucky officer wore the expression of the mouse chosen to bell the cat. "Governor, the advance scouts have reached and circumnavigated Dantooine. They have found the remains of a rebel base … which they estimate has been deserted for some time. Years, possibly. They are proceeding with an extensive survey of the remainder of the system."

Tarrlok turned apoplectic, his face darkening to a fine pomegranate fury. "She lied! She lied to us!"

No one could see, but it seemed that Amon must have smiled behind his mask. "Then we are even in the first exchange of 'truths.' I told you she would never betray the rebellion—unless she thought her confession could somehow destroy us in the process."

"Terminate her immediately!" The Governor was barely able to form words.

"Calm yourself, Tarrlok," Amon advised him. "You would throw away our only link to the real rebel base so casually? She can still be of value to us."

"Fagh! You just said it yourself, Amon: we'll get nothing more out of her. I'll find that hidden fortress if I have to destroy every star system in this sector. I'll—" A quiet yet demanding beep interrupted him. "Yes, what is it?" he inquired irritably.

A voice reported over an unseen speaker. "Sirs, we've captured a small freighter that was entering the remains of Alderaan. A standard check indicates that its markings apparently match that of the ship which blasted its way out of the quarantine at Mos Eisley, Tatooine system, and went hyper before the Equalist blockade craft there could close on it."

Tarrlok looked puzzled. "Mos Eisley? Tatooine? What is this? What's this all about, Amon?"

"It means, Tarrlok, that the last of our unresolved difficulties is about to be eliminated. Someone apparently received the missing data tapes, learned who transcribed them, and was trying to return them to her. We may be able to facilitate their meeting with the Senator."

Tarkin started to say something, hesitated, then nodded in understanding. "How convenient. I leave this matter in your hands, Amon." The Dark Lord bowed slightly, a gesture which Tarrlok acknowledged with a perfunctory salute. Then he spun and strode from the room, leaving Ghazan looking from man to man in confusion.

* * *

The freighter sat listlessly in the docking hangar of the huge bay. Thirty armed Equalist troopers stood before the lowered main ramp leading into the ship. They snapped to attention when Amon and a Commander approached. Amon halted at the base of the ramp, studying the vessel as an officer and several soldiers came forward. "There was no reply to our repeated signals, sir, so we activated the ramp from outside. We've made no contact with anyone aboard either by communicator or in person," the officer reported.

"Send your men in," Amon ordered. Turning, the officer relayed the command to a noncom, who barked orders. A number of the heavily armored soldiers made their way up the ramp and entered the outer hold. They advanced with appreciable caution. Inside, two men covered a third as he advanced. Moving in groups of three in this fashion, they rapidly spread through the ship.

Corridors rang hollowly under metal-shod feet, and doors slid aside willingly as they were activated. "Empty," the Sergeant in charge finally declared in surprise. "Check the cockpit." Several troopers made their way forward and slid the portal aside, only to discover the pilot's chairs as vacant as the rest of the freighter.

The controls were deactivated and all systems shut down. Only a single light on the console winked on and off fitfully. The Sergeant moved forward, recognized the source of the light, and activated the appropriate controls. A printout appeared on a nearby screen. He studied it intently, then turned to convey the information to his superior, who was waiting by the main hatch. That worthy listened carefully before he turned and called down to the Commander and Vader. "There is no one aboard; the ship is completely deserted, sirs. According to the ship's log, her crew abandoned ship immediately after lift-off, then set her on automatics for Alderaan."

"Possibly a decoy," the Commander ventured aloud. "Then they should still be on Tatooine!"

"Possibly," Amon admitted reluctantly.

"Several of the escape pods have been jettisoned," the officer went on.

"Did you find any droids on board?" Amon called.

"No, sir—nothing. If there were any, they must have abandoned the ship along with the organic crew."

Amon hesitated before replying. When he did so, uncertainty was evident in his voice. "This doesn't feel right. Send a fully equipped scanning team on board. I want every centimeter of that ship checked out. See to it as soon as possible." With that, he whirled and stalked from the hangar, pursued by the infuriating feeling that he was overlooking something of vital importance. The rest of the assembled soldiers were dismissed by the officer.

On board the freighter, a last lone figure left off examining the space beneath the cockpit consoles and ran to join his comrades. He was anxious to be off this ghost ship and back in the comfortable surroundings of the barracks. His heavy footsteps echoed through the once more empty freighter.

* * *

Below, the muffled sounds of the officer giving final orders faded, leaving the interior in complete quiet. The quivering of a portion of the floor was the only movement on board. Abruptly the quivering became a sharp upheaval. Two metal panels popped upward, followed by a pair of tousled heads. Mako and Korra looked around quickly, then managed to relax a little when it became clear that the ship was as empty as it sounded. "Lucky you'd built these compartments," Korra commented.

Mako was not as cheerily confident. "Where did you think I kept smuggled goods—in the main hold? I admit I never expected to smuggle myself in them." He started violently at a sudden sound, but it was only another of the panels shifting aside.

"This is ridiculous. It isn't going to work. Even if you could take off and get past the closed hatch"— Desna jabbed a thumb upward—"we'd never get past that tractor beam."

Another panel opened, revealing the face of an elderly imp. "You leave that to me."

"I was afraid you'd say something like that," muttered Bolin.

"You're a damn fool, old man." Mako stated.

Tenzin simply grinned at him. "What does that say of the man who allows himself to be hired by a fool?"

Mako muttered something under his breath as they pulled themselves clear of the compartments, Bolin doing so with a good deal of grunting and twisting.

Two technicians had arrived at the base of the ramp. They reported to the two bored soldiers guarding it. "The ship's all yours," one of the troopers told them. "If the scanners pick up anything, report it immediately." The men nodded, then strained to lug their heavy equipment up the ramp. As soon as they disappeared inside, a loud crash was heard. Both guards whirled, then heard a voice call, "Hey, down there, could you give us a hand with this?" One trooper looked at his companion, who shrugged. They both started up the ramp, muttering at the inefficiency of mere technicians. A second crashing sound reverberated, but now there was no one left to hear it.

But the absence of the two troopers was noticed, soon thereafter. A gantry officer passing the window of a small command office near the freighter entrance glanced out, frowning when he saw no sign of the guards. Concerned but not alarmed, he moved to a comlink and spoke into it as he continued to stare at the ship.

"THX-1138, why aren't you at your post? THX-1138, do you copy?" The speaker gave back only static. "THX-1138, why don't you reply?" The officer was beginning to panic when an armored figure descended the ramp and waved toward him. Pointing to the portion of his helmet covering his right ear, the figure tapped it to indicate the comlink inside wasn't working. Shaking his head in disgust, the gantry officer gave his busy aide an annoyed look as he made for the door. "Take over here. We've got another bad transmitter. I'm going to see what I can do." He activated the door, took a step forward as it slid aside—and stumbled backward in a state of shock. Filling the door completely was a mountain of a boy.

Bolin quickly entered the room and incapacitated the officer. The aide was already on his feet and reaching for his sidearm when a narrow energy beam passed completely through him, piercing his heart. Mako flipped up the faceplate of his trooper helmet, then slid it back into place as he followed his brother into the room. Kenobi and the twins squeezed in behind him, with Korra, also clad in the armor of a luckless Equalist soldier, bringing up the rear.

Korra was looking around nervously as she shut the door behind them. "With the ruckus you two just caused, it's a wonder the entire station doesn't know we're here."

"Bring 'em on," Bolin demanded, unreasonably enthused by their success so far. "I prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around."

"Maybe you're in a hurry to die," Korra snapped, "but I'm not. All this sneaking around has kept us alive." The brothers gave Korra a sour eye but said nothing. They watched as Tenzin operated an incredibly complex computer console with the ease and confidence of one long accustomed to handling intricate machinery.

A screen lit up promptly with a map of sections of the battle station. The old man leaned forward, scrutinizing the display carefully. Meanwhile, Eska and Desna had been going over an equally complicated control panel nearby. Desna suddenly froze and began gesturing wildly at something he had found. Mako and Korra, their momentary disagreement over tactics forgotten, rushed over to where the twins were standing. Bolin busied himself with hiding the unconscious officers in a pair of lockers.

"Desna, do you think you could upload this information to Korra and Mako's helmets?" Kenobi suggested, looking over from his place before the larger readout.

Eska laughed. "He should be able to draw information from the entire station network. Let's see if he can find out where the tractor-beam power unit is located."

"Why not just disconnect the beam from here, Tenzin?" Korra wanted to know.

It was Mako who replied derisively, "What, and have them lock it right back on us before we can get a ship's length outside the docking bay?"

Korra looked crestfallen. "Oh. I hadn't thought of that."

"We have to break the tractor at its power source in order to execute a clean escape, Korra," Tenzin chided gently as Desna punched a disc into the open computer socket he had discovered. Immediately a galaxy of lights came to life on the panel in front of him and the room was filled with the hum of machinery working at high speed. Several minutes passed while the disc sucked up information like a metal sponge.

Then the hum slowed and Desna turned to beep something back at them. "I've found it, sir." he announced excitedly. "The tractor beam is coupled to the main reactors at seven locations. Most of the pertinent data is restricted, but he'll try to pull the critical information through to the monitor." Kenobi turned his attention from the larger screen to a small readout near Desna.

Data began to race across it too fast for Korra to see, but apparently Kenobi somehow made something of the schematic blur. "I don't think there's any way you boys can help with this," he told them. "I must go alone."

"That suits me fine," said Mako readily. "I've already done more than I bargained for on this trip. But I think putting that tractor beam out of commission's going to take more than your magic, old man."

Korra wasn't put off so easily. "I want to go with you."

"Don't be impatient, young lady. This requires skills you haven't yet mastered. Stay and watch over the twins and wait for my signal. They must be delivered to the rebel forces or many more worlds will meet the same fate as Alderaan. Trust in the Force, Korra—and wait." With a last look at the flow of information on the monitor, Kenobi adjusted the lightsaber at his waist. Stepping to the door, he slid it aside, looked once left, once right, and disappeared down a long, glowing hallway.

As soon as he was gone Bolin sighed and Mako nodded agreement. "You said it, Bo!" He turned to Korra. "Where'd you dig up that old fossil?"

"Tenzin Kenobi—General Kenobi—is a great man," Korra protested loftily.

"Great at getting us into trouble," Mako snorted. " 'General,' my afterburners! He's not going to get us out of here."

"You got any better ideas?" Korra shot back challengingly.

"Anything would be better than just waiting here for them to come and pick us up. If we—" An excited voice came from over by the computer console.

Korra hurried over to Eska. "What now?" Korra asked the twins.

The male looked puzzled himself. "I'm afraid I don't understand either, Korra."

Eska turned to them, "I found her." She stated. "I found Princess Asami."

That three-dimensional portrait of indescribable beauty coalesced in Korra's mind again, and a light blush dusted her cheeks. "The Princess? She's here?"

Attracted by the commotion, Mako wandered over. "Princess? What's going on?"

"Where? Where is she?" Korra demanded breathlessly, ignoring Mako completely.

Eska scrolled through the computer quickly "Level five, detention block AA-23. According to the information, she is scheduled for slow termination."

"No! We've got to do something." Korra grabbed her stolen tropper's helmet, prepared to find the princess.

"What are you three blabbering about?" an exasperated Mako demanded.

"She's the one who gave the tapes carrying rebellion information to Desna," Korra explained hurriedly, "the ones we were trying to deliver to Alderaan. We've got to help her."

"Now, just a minute," Mako cautioned her. "This is going awful fast for me. Don't get any funny ideas. When I said I didn't have any 'better ideas' I meant it. The old man said to wait here. I don't like it, but I'm not going off on some crazy maze through this place."

"But Tenzin didn't know she was here," Korra half pleaded, half argued. "I'm sure that if he knew he would have changed his plans." Anxiety turned to thoughtfulness. "Now, if we could just figure a way to get into that detention block …"

Mako shook his head and stepped back. "Huh-uh—I'm not going into any Equalist detention blocks."

"If we don't do something, they're going to execute her. A minute ago you said you didn't just want to sit here and wait to be captured. Now all you want to do is stay. Which is it, Solo?"

The amber eyed boy looked troubled—and confused. "Marching into a detention area's not what I had in mind. We're likely to end up there anyway—why rush it?"

"But they're going to execute her!" Korra was angry, annoyed that the boy couldn't see the importance of rescuing the princess.

"Better her than me." Mako rolled his eyes. "We don't need to go rushing off in to even more trouble."

"Where's your sense of chivalry, Mako?"

Mako considered. "Near as I can recall, I traded it for a ten-carat chrysopaz and three bottles of good brandy about five years ago on Commenor."

"I've seen her," Korra persisted desperately. "She's beautiful." Korra hoped that would appeal to the young man.

"So's life."

"She's a rich and powerful Senator," Korra pressed, hoping an appeal to Mako's baser instincts might be more effective. "If we could save her, the reward could be substantial."

"Uh … rich?" Then the elder Solo looked disdainful. "Wait a minute … Reward, from whom? From the government on Alderaan?" He made a sweeping gesture toward the hangar and by implication the space where Alderaan had once orbited.

Korra thought furiously. "If she's being held here and is scheduled to be executed, that means she must be dangerous in some way to whoever destroyed Alderaan, to whoever had this station built. You can bet it had something to do with the Empire instituting a reign of full repression. I'll tell you who'll pay for her rescue, and for the information she holds. The Senate, the rebel Alliance, and every system that did business with Alderaan. She could be the sole surviving heir of the off-world wealth of the entire system! The reward could be more wealth than you can imagine."

"I don't know … I can imagine quite a bit." He glanced at Bolin, who merely shrugged as a reply. Mako shrugged back at his brother. "All right, we'll give it a try. But you'd better be right about that reward. What's your plan, kid?"

Korra was momentarily taken aback. All her energies up till now had been concentrated on persuading Mako and Bolin to aid in a rescue attempt. That accomplished, Korra became aware she had no idea how to proceed. She had grown used to old Tenzin and Mako giving directions. Now the next move was up to her. Her eyes were caught by several metal circlets dangling from the belt of Mako's armor. "Give me those binders, and Bolin, come over here." Mako handed Korra the thin but quite unbreakable cuffs as Bolin shuffled over to the girl, confused.

"Now, I'm going to put these on you," Korra began, starting to move behind Bolin with the cuffs.

Mako sounded amused as he moved forward. "Don't worry, Bo. I think I know what she has in mind." The cuffs barely fit around the thick wrists. Despite his brother's seeming confidence in the plan, Bolin wore a worried, frightened look as the restraints were activated.

"Korra." Korra looked over at Eska. "ah—what should Desna and I do if someone discovers us here in your absence?"

"Hope they don't have blasters," Mako replied.

Eska's tone indicated she didn't find the answer humorous. "That isn't very reassuring."

Mako, Bolin, and Korra were too engrossed in their coming expedition to pay much attention to the worried twins. They adjusted their helmets. Then, with Bolin wearing a half-real downcast expression, they started off along the corridor where Tenzin Kenobi had disappeared.


	9. Chapter 9: Rescuing Princesses

Chapter 9: Rescuing Princesses

* * *

As they traveled farther and deeper into the bowels of the gigantic station, they found it increasingly difficult to maintain an air of casual indifference. Fortunately, those who might have sensed some nervousness on the part of the two armored troopers would regard it as only natural, considering their muscular, dangerous looking captive. Having a handcuffed Bolin in tow also made it impossible for the two impostor troopers to be as inconspicuous as they would have liked. The farther they traveled, the heavier the traffic became.

Other soldiers, bureaucrats, technicians, and mechanicals bustled around them. Intent on their own assignments, they ignored the trio completely, only a few of the troopers sparing the captive Bolin a curious glance. Bolin's morose expression and the seeming confidence of his captors reassured the inquisitive. Eventually they reached a wide bank of elevators. Korra breathed a sigh of relief. The computer controlled transport ought to be capable of taking them just about anywhere on the station in response to a verbal command.

There was a nervous second when a minor official raced to get aboard. Mako gestured sharply, and the other, without voicing a protest, shifted to the next elevator tube in line. Korra studied the operating panel, then tried to sound at once knowledgeable and important as she spoke into the pickup grid. Instead, she sounded nervous and scared, but the elevator was a pure-response mechanism, not programmed to differentiate the appropriateness of emotions conveyed vocally. So the door slid shut and they were on their way.

After what felt like hours but was in reality only minutes, the door opened and they stepped out into the security area. It had been Korra's hope they would discover something like the old-fashioned barred cells of the kind used on Tatooine in towns like Mos Eisley. Instead, they saw only narrow ramps bordering a bottomless ventilation shaft. These walkways, several levels of them, ran parallel to smooth curving walls which held faceless detention cells.

Alert-looking guards and energy gates seemed to be everywhere they looked. Uncomfortably aware that the longer they stood frozen in place, the sooner someone was bound to come over and ask unanswerable questions, Korra searched frantically for a course of action. "This isn't going to work," Mako whispered, leaning toward her.

"Why didn't you say so before?" a frustrated, frightened Korra shot back.

"I think I did. I—"

"Shssh!" Mako shut up as Korra's worst fears were realized. A tall, grim-looking officer approached them. He frowned as he examined the silent Bolin.

"Where are you two going with this—boy?" Bolin huffed at the remark, and Mako quieted him with a hasty jab in the ribs.

A panicky Korra found herself replying almost instinctively. "Prisoner transfer from block TS-138."

The officer looked puzzled. "I wasn't notified. I'll have to clear it." Turning, the man walked to a small console nearby and began entering his request. Korra and Mako hurriedly surveyed the situation, their gaze traveling from alarms, energy gates, and remote photosensors to the three other guards stationed in the area.

Mako nodded to Korra as he unfastened Bolin's cuffs. Then he whispered to his brother, "Okay, Bo, time for a distraction."

An ear-splitting scream shook the corridor as Bolin threw up both hands, grabbing Mako's rifle from him. "Look out!" a seemingly terrified Mako shouted. "He's loose! He's crazed! He'll rip us all apart!"

Both he and Korra had darted clear of the rampaging Bolin, pulled out their pistols, and were blasting away at him. Their reaction was excellent, their enthusiasm undeniable, and their aim execrable. Not a single shot came close to the dodging young man. Instead, they blasted automatic cameras, energy-rate controls, and the three dumbfounded guards.

At this point it occurred to the officer in charge that the abominable aim of the two soldiers was a bit too selectively efficient. He was preparing to jab the general alarm when a burst from Korra's pistol caught him in the midsection and he fell without a word to the gray deck. Mako rushed to the open comlink speaker, which was screeching anxious questions about what was going on. Apparently there were audio as well as visual links between this detention station and elsewhere. Ignoring the barrage of alternate threats and queries, he checked the readout set in the panel nearby. "We've got to find out which cell this Princess of yours is in. There must be a dozen levels and— Here it is. Cell 2187. Go on—Bolin and I'll hold them here."

Korra nodded once and was racing down the narrow walkway. After gesturing for Bolin to take up a position where he could cover the elevators, Mako took a deep breath and responded to the unceasing calls from the comlink. "Everything's under control," he said into the pickup, sounding reasonably official. "Situation normal."

"It didn't sound like that," a voice snapped back in a no-nonsense tone. "What happened?"

"Uh, well, one of the guards experienced a weapon malfunction," the eldest Solo stammered, his temporary official tone lapsing into nervousness. "No problem now—we're all fine, thanks. How about you?"

"We're sending a squad up," the voice announced suddenly. Mako could almost smell the suspicion at the other end. What to say? He spoke more eloquently with the business end of a pistol.

"Negative—negative. We have an energy leak. Give us a few minutes to lock it down. Large leak —very dangerous."

"Weapon malfunction, energy leak … Who is this? What's your operating—?"

Pointing his pistol at the panels, Bolin blew the instrumentation to silent scraps. "It was a dumb conversation anyway," he murmured. Turning, he shouted down the corridor, "Hurry it up, Korra! We're going to have company."

* * *

Korra heard, but she was absorbed in running from one cell to the next and studying the numbers glowing above each doorway. The cell 2187, it appeared, did not exist.

But it did, and she found it just as she was about to give up and try the next level down. For a long moment Korra examined the featureless convex metal wall. Turning her pistol to maximum and hoping it wouldn't melt in her hand before it broke through, she opened fire on the door. When the weapon became too hot to hold, she tossed it from hand to hand. As she did so the smoke had time to clear, and she saw with some surprise that the door had been blown away.

Peering through the smoke with an uncomprehending look on her face was the young woman whose portrait had been projected as a hologram in Tenzin's hut on Tatooine, several centuries ago, or so it seemed to Korra. She was even more beautiful than her image, Korra decided, staring dazedly at her. "You're even— more beautiful—than I—"

Asami's look of confusion and uncertainty was replaced by first puzzlement and then impatience. "Aren't you a little short for a storm trooper?" she finally commented.

"What? Oh—the uniform." Korra removed the helmet, regaining a little composure at the same time. She offered the princess a small, lopsided grin. "I've come to rescue you. I'm Korra Skywalker."

"I beg your pardon?" she said politely.

"I said, I've come to rescue you. Tenzin Kenobi is with me. We've got your tapes—" The uncertainty was instantly replaced by hope at the mention of the older man's name.

"Tenzin Kenobi!" She looked around Korra, ignoring the dark skinned girl as she searched for the Jedi. "Where is he? Tenzin!"

"Hey! Stop yelling! We kinda need to stay quiet, if you want to get out of here," Korra huffed, surprised at the lack of tact from the taller girl. "Tenzin is off locating a way to shut down the tractor beam, so that we can escape once we get back to our ship."

Asami looked at Korra appraisingly, taking in the younger girl's determined expression as Korra peeked around the door's frame. "Come on," the blue-eyed girl urged, "It's clear."

"Fine," Asami sighed, "Lead the way."

* * *

Governor Tarrlok watched as Darth Amon paced rapidly back and forth in the otherwise empty conference room. Finally the Dark Lord paused, glancing around as though a great bell only he could hear had rung somewhere close by. "He is here," Amon stated unemotionally.

Tarrlok looked startled. "Tenzin Kenobi! That's impossible. What makes you think so?"

"A stirring in the Force, of a kind I've felt only in the presence of an old master. It is unmistakable."

"Surely—surely he must be dead by now."

Amon hesitated, his assurance suddenly gone. "Perhaps … It is gone now. It was only a brief sensation."

"The Jedi are extinct," declared Tarrlok positively. "Their fire was quenched decades ago. You, my friend, are all that's left of their ways." A comlink buzzed softly for attention. "Yes?" Tarrlok acknowledged.

"We have an emergency alert in detention block AA-23."

"The Princess!" Tarrlok yelped, jumping to his feet. Amon whirled, trying to stare through the walls.

"I knew it—Tenzin is here. I knew I could not mistake a stirring in the Force of such power."

"Put all sections on alert," Tarrlok ordered through the com-link Then he turned to stare at Amon. "If you're right, he must not be allowed to escape."

"Escape may not be Tenzin Kenobi's intention," Amon replied, struggling to control his emotions. "He is the last of the Jedi—and the greatest. The danger he presents to us must not be underestimated—yet only I can deal with him." His head snapped around to stare fixedly at Tarrlok. "Alone."

* * *

Korra and Asami had started back up the corridor when a series of blinding explosions ripped the walkway ahead of them. Several troopers had tried coming through the elevator, only to be crisped one after another by Bolin. Disdaining the elevators, the troopers had blasted a gaping hole through a wall, and the opening was too large for Mako and Bolin to cover completely.

In twos and threes, the Equalists were working their way into the detention block. Retreating down the walkway, Mako and Bolin encountered Korra who was shielding the Princess. "We can't go back that way!" Mako told them, his face flushed with excitement and worry.

"No, it looks like you've managed to cut off our only escape route," Asami agreed readily, rolling her eyes.

"This _is_ a detention area, you know. They don't build them with multiple exits." Bolin added, scratching the back of his neck

Breathing heavily, Mako turned to look Asami up and down. "Begging your forgiveness, Your Highness," he said sarcastically, "but maybe you'd prefer it back in your cell?"

She looked away, her face impassive.

"There's got to be another way out," Korra muttered, pulling a small transmitter unit from her belt and carefully adjusting the frequency: "Desna … Eska!"

A familiar voice responded with gratifying speed. "Korra?"

"We've been cut off here. Are there any other ways out of the detention area—anything at all?" Static crackled over the tiny grid as Mako and Bolin kept the Equalist troops bottled up at the other end of the walkway. "What was that …? I didn't copy."

Asami stood close to Korra as they waited for Eska to respond. The Princess wished that she'd had a blaster of her own to help the boys clear the walkway, but feeling quite vulnerable without a weapon, she kept close to the armored girl instead.

Back in the gantry office Desna worked frantically as Eska adjusted controls, fighting to clear the awkward transmission. "I said, all systems have been alerted to your presence. The main entry seems to be the only way in or out of the cell block."

She pressed instruments, and the view on the nearby readouts changed steadily. "All other information on your section is restricted." Someone began banging on the locked door to the office—evenly at first and then, when no response was forthcoming from within, more insistently. "Oh, no." Eska groaned.

* * *

The smoke in the cell corridor was now so intense that it was difficult for Mako and Bolin to pick their targets. That was fortunate inasmuch as they were now badly outnumbered and the smoke confused the Equalists' fire with equal thoroughness. Every so often one of the soldiers would attempt to move closer, only to stand exposed as he penetrated the smoke. Under the accurate fire of the two smugglers, he would rapidly join the accumulating mass of motionless figures on the rampway flooring.

Energy bolts continued to ricochet wildly through the block as Korra moved close to Mako, keeping the princess behind her lest a stray energy bolt find its way towards them. "There isn't any other way out," she yelled over the deafening roar of concentrated fire.

"Well, they're closing in on us. What do we do now?" Bolin yelled, ducking as a red beam whisked passed his head.

"This is some rescue," an irritated voice complained from behind them. Korra and Mako turned to see a thoroughly disgusted Princess eyeing them with regal disapproval. "When you came in here, didn't you have a plan for getting out?"

Mako nodded toward Korra. "She's the brains, sweetheart. She's the one who just _had_ to save you."

Korra blushed and managed an embarrassed grin and shrugged helplessly. She turned to help return fire, but before she could do so, the Princess had snatched the pistol from her hand. "Hey!" Korra stared as Asami moved along the wall, finally locating a small grate nearby. She pointed the pistol at it and fired.

Mako gazed at her in disbelief. "What do you think you're doing?"

"It looks like it's up to me to save our skins. Get into that garbage chute, flyboy!" While the others looked on in amazement, Asami jumped feet first into the opening and disappeared.

"Asami!" Korra yelled to the princess's disappearing form, before sighing.

Bolin looked down the chute in shock, "Did she just do that? I thought she was a princess!" he spoke, confused at the turn of events.

Mako slowly shook his head. "I don't think she's like the princesses in your comics, Bo." Bolin laughed, and Mako yelled at him, "Go on in, you big oaf!"

"Mako, it smells bad!" the bigger boy whined with a pathetic look on his face.

"I don't care what you smell. This is no time to go dainty on me." Shoving his reluctant brother toward the tiny opening, Mako helped jam the massive bulk through. As soon as he disappeared, the amber eyed boy followed him in. Korra fired off a last series of blasts, more in the hope of creating a covering smoke than hitting anything, slid into the chute, and was gone.

Not wanting to incur further losses in such a confined space, the pursuing soldiers had momentarily halted to await the arrival of reinforcements and heavier weapons. Besides, they had their quarry trapped, and despite their dedication, none of them were anxious to die needlessly.

* * *

The chamber Korra tumbled into was dimly lit. Not that the light was needed to discern its contents. She smelled the decay long before she was dumped into it. Unadorned except for the concealed illuminants, the garbage room was at least a quarter full of slimy muck, much of which had already achieved a state of decomposition sufficient to wrinkle Korra's nose.

"Gross…who's idea was this again?" She complained, while trying to step over…whatever _that_ was.

Mako was stumbling around the edge of the room, slipping and sinking up to his knees in the uncertain footing in an attempt to locate an exit. All he found was a small, thick hatchway which he grunted and heaved to pry open. The hatch cover refused to budge. "The garbage chute was _her_ wonderful idea," he told Korra sardonically, pointing his thumb at the princess and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"What an incredible smell you've discovered. Unfortunately, we can't ride out of here on a drifting odor, and there doesn't seem to be any other exit, unless I can get this hatch open." Stepping back, he pulled his pistol and fired at the cover. The bolt promptly went howling around the room as everyone sought cover in the garbage. A last glance and the bolt detonated almost on top of them.

Looking less dignified by the moment, Asami was the first to emerge from the pungent cover. "Put that thing away," she told Mako grimly, "or you're going to get us all killed.

"Yes, Your Worship," Mako muttered in snide supplication, rolling his eyes at the prim young woman. He made no move to holster his weapon as he glanced back up toward the open chute above. "It won't take long for them to figure out what happened to us. We had things well under control—until you led us down here."

"Sure you did," Asami shot back, brushing refuse from her long, black hair and shoulders.

"Oh, well, it could be worse.… " Korra offered, hoping to diffuse the tension between the beautiful princess and their ride off of the station. As if in reply, a piercing, horrible moaning filled the room. It seemed to come from somewhere beneath them. Bolin let out a terrified yowl of his own and tried to flatten himself against a wall. Korra drew her own pistol and peered hard at various clumps of debris, but saw nothing. She motioned for Asami to join her on the semi-stable platform she'd found, and the princess quickly obliged, grabbing on to Korra's armor clad arm.

"What was that?" Mako asked.

"I'm not too sure." Korra suddenly jumped, twisting away from Asami and looking down and behind her. "Something just moved past me, I think. Watch out—"

With shocking suddenness Korra was pulled from the platform and disappeared straight down into the murky garbage-water. "It's got Korra!" the Princess shouted. "It took her under!" Mako looked around frantically for something to shoot at. As abruptly as she had vanished, Korra reappeared—and so did part of something else.

A thick whitish tentacle was wrapped tight around her throat. "Shoot it, kill it!" Korra tried to scream while gasping for air.

"Shoot it! I can't even see it," Mako frantically protested. Once again Korra was sucked under by whatever that gruesome appendage was attached to. Mako stared helplessly around the multicolored surface.

There was a distant rumble of heavy machinery, and two opposing walls of the chamber moved inward several centimeters. The rumble ceased and then it was quiet again. Korra appeared above the water again, unexpectedly close to Asami, who grabbed on to the shorter girl's armor and helped her scrabble her way clear of the suffocating mess. Korra stood, rubbing at the welt on her neck.

"Korra! Are you okay? What happened to it?" Asami wondered, looking closely at Korra's neck, then eyeing the quiescent garbage warily.

Korra looked genuinely puzzled. "I don't know. It had me—and then I was free. It just let me go and disappeared. Maybe I didn't smell bad enough for it." She tried to joke, looking up at Asami.

"I've got a very bad feeling about this," Bolin murmured. Again the distant rumble filled the room; again the walls began their inward march. Only this time neither sound nor movement showed any sign of stopping.

"Don't just stand there gaping at each other!" the Princess urged them.

Korra quickly jumped up, grabbing a large piece of metal. "Try to brace them with something."

Even with the thick poles and old metal beams Bolin could handle, they were unable to find anything capable of slowing the walls' advance. It seemed as if the stronger the object was that they placed against the walls, the easier it was snapped. Korra pulled out her comlink, simultaneously trying to talk and will the walls to retreat.

"Eska…come in, Eska!" A decent pause produced no response, causing Korra to look worriedly at her companions. "I don't know why she doesn't answer." She tried again. "Eska, come in. Do you read?"

* * *

"Eska," the muted voice continued to call, "come in, Eska." It was Korra's voice and it issued softly in between buzzing's from the small hand comlink resting on the deserted computer console. Save for the intermittent pleading, the gantry office was silent. A tremendous explosion drowned out the muffled pleadings. It blew the office door clean across the room, sending metal fragments flying in all directions. Several of them struck the comlink, sending it flying to the floor and cutting off Korra's voice in mid-transmission. In the wake of the minor cataclysm four armed and ready troopers entered through the blown portal.

Initial study indicated the office was deserted—until a dim, frightened voice was heard coming from one of the tall supply cabinets near the back of the room. "Help, help! Let us out!"

Several of the troopers bent to inspect the immobile bodies of the gantry officer and his aide while others opened the noisy cabinet. Desna and Eska, dressed in the technician uniforms they'd found in the lockers, stepped out into the office. The male twin gave the impression of being half unbalanced with fear. "They're madmen, I tell you, madmen!" He gestured urgently toward the doorway. "I think they said something about heading for the prison level. They just left. If you hurry, you might catch them. That way, that way!"

Two of the troopers inside joined those waiting in the hallway in hustling off down the corridor. That left two guards to watch over the office. They totally ignored the siblings as they discussed what might have taken place.

"All the excitement has overloaded my companion here," Desna explained carefully. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take her down to the barracks."

"Hmmm?" One of the guards looked up indifferently and nodded to the younger man. Desna and Eska hurried out the door without looking back. As they departed it occurred to the guard that the pair of twins were technicians he had never seen before. He shrugged. That was not surprising on a station of this size.

"That was too close," Eska muttered as they scurried down an empty corridor, "but good thinking, brother. Now we'll have to find another information-control console and plug back in, or everything is lost."

* * *

The garbage chamber grew remorselessly smaller, the smoothly fitting metal walls moving toward one another with stolid precision. Larger pieces of refuse performed a concerto of snapping and popping that was rising toward a final shuddering crescendo. Bolin whined pitifully as he fought with all his incredible strength and weight to hold back one of the walls, looking like a hirsute Tantalus approaching his final summit.

"One thing's for sure," Mako noted unhappily. "We're all going to be much thinner. This could prove popular for slimming. The only trouble is its permanence."

Korra paused for breath, shaking the innocent comlink angrily. "What could have happened to those two?"

The princess looked away from the downcast girl, and turned to the pilot. "Try the hatch again," advised Asami. "It's our only hope."

The taller Solo shielded his eyes and did so. The ineffectual blast echoed mockingly through the narrowing chamber.

* * *

The service bay was unoccupied, everyone apparently having been drawn away by the commotion elsewhere. After a cautious survey of the room Eska beckoned for Desna to follow. Together they commenced a hurried search of the many service panels. Desna beckoned, and Eska rushed to him. He waited impatiently as the female plugged the receptive disc carefully into the open socket. A superfast flurry of electronics spewed in undisciplined fashion from the grid of the small screen.

Desna made cautioning motions. "Wait a minute, slow down!" The sounds dropped to a crawl. "That's better. They're where? They what? Oh, no! They'll only come out of there as a liquid!"

Less than a meter of life was left to the trapped occupants of the garbage room. Asami and Korra who had been forced to turn sideways, had ended up facing each other. For the first time the haughtiness was gone from the Princess's face. Reaching out, she took Korra's hand, clutching it convulsively out of fear as she felt the first touch of the closing walls hit her shoulders.

Mako was standing near his brother, staring at the walls as he watched them inch ever closer; Bolin had fallen and was lying on his side, fighting to keep his head above the rising ooze. He nearly choked on a mouthful of compressed sludge when Korra's comlink began buzzing for attention.

Korra answered frantically, "Desna!"

"Are you there, Korra?" the boy replied. "We've had some minor problems. You would not believe —"

"Shut up, Desna!" Korra screamed into the unit. "And shut down all the refuse units on the detention level or immediately below it. Do you copy? Shut down the refuse—"

Moments later Desna grabbed at his head in pain as a terrific screeching and yelling sounded over the comlink. "No, shut them all down!" he implored Eska. "Hurry! Listen to them, Eska, they're dying. We weren't fast enough. Poor Korra—all of them …"

The screaming and yelling, however, continued far beyond what seemed like a reasonable interval to Desna. In fact, they were shouts of relief.

The chamber walls had reversed direction automatically with Eska's shutdown and were moving apart again. Asami's head fell forward, landing on Korra's shoulder as she sighed in relief. "Desna, Eska," Korra hollered into the comlink, smiling in to Asami's hair, "it's all right, we're all right! Do you read me? We're okay—you did just fine."

Brushing distastefully at the slime clinging to Asami's shoulder, Korra's gaze locked onto the princess's vivid green stare, and she smiled widely at the taller girl. Korra then turned away, and made her way past Asami toward the hatchcover. Bending, she scraped accumulated detritus away, noting the number thus revealed. Korra spoke into the comlink much more calmly this time, "Open the pressure-maintenance hatch on unit 366-117891."

"Yes, Korra," came Desna's acknowledgment. They may have been the happiest words Korra had ever heard.


	10. Chapter 10: A Shift in the Force

Chapter 10: A Shift in the Force

* * *

Lined with power cables and circuitry conduits that rose from the depths and vanished into the heavens, the service trench appeared to be hundreds of kilometers deep. The narrow catwalk running around one side looked like a starched thread glued on a glowing ocean. It was barely wide enough for one man to traverse. One man edged his way along that treacherous walkway now, his gaze intent on something ahead of him instead of the awesome metal abyss below. The clacking sounds of enormous switching devices resounded like captive leviathans in the vast open space, tireless and never sleeping.

Two thick cables joined beneath an overlay panel. It was locked, but after careful inspection of sides, top and bottom, Tenzin Kenobi pressed the panel cover in a particular fashion causing it to spring aside. A blinking computer terminal was revealed beneath. With equal care he performed several adjustments to the terminal. His actions were rewarded when several indicator lights on the board changed from red to blue.

Without warning, a secondary door close behind him opened. Hurriedly re-closing the panel cover, the old man slipped deeper into the shadows. A detachment of troopers had appeared in the portal, and the officer in charge moved to within a couple of meters of the motionless, hidden figure. "Secure this area until the alert has been cancelled." As they began to disperse, Kenobi became one with the dark.

* * *

Bolin grunted and wheezed, and barely succeeded in forcing his thick torso through the hatchway opening with Korra's and Mako's help. That accomplished, Korra turned to take stock of their surroundings. The hallway they had emerged into showed dust on the floor. It gave the impression of not having been used since the station had been built. It was probably only a repair access corridor. She had no idea where they were.

Something hit the wall behind them with a massive thunk, and Korra yelled for everyone to watch out as a long, gelatinous limb – the very same one that had tried to drown Korra - worked its way through the hatch and flailed hopefully about in the open corridor. Mako aimed his pistol at it as Asami tried to slip past the half-paralyzed Bolin.

"Somebody get this big walking boulder out of my way." Suddenly she noticed what Mako was preparing to do. "No, wait! It'll be heard!"

The amber-eyed boy ignored her and fired at the hatchway. The burst of energy was rewarded with a distant roar as an avalanche of weakened wall and beaming all but buried the creature in the chamber beyond. Magnified by the narrow corridor, the sounds continued to roll and echo for long minutes afterward. Korra shook her head in disgust, realizing that someone like Solo who spoke with the mouth of a gun might not always act sensibly. Until now, she had sort of looked up to the pilot.

But the senseless gesture of firing at the hatchway brought them, for the first time in Korra's mind, to the same level. The Princess's actions were more surprising than Mako's, however.

"Listen," she began, staring up at him, "I don't know where you came from, but I'm grateful." Asami sent a small smile to Korra, adding, "To the both of you." Her attention turned back to Mako. "But from now on you do as I tell you."

Mako gaped at her. This time the smug smile wouldn't come. "Look, Your Holiness," he was finally able to stammer, "let's get something straight. I take orders only from one person—me."

"It's a wonder you're still alive," she shot back smoothly. A quick look down the corridor and she had started determinedly off in the other direction.

Mako looked at Bolin, started to say something, then hesitated and simply shook his head slowly. "No reward is worth this. I don't know if there's enough credit in the universe to pay for putting up with her."

"Actually, Mako…," Bolin began, "We really need that money to pay off Ozai…" and he raised his hand to the back of his neck, offering a small, uncomfortable smile.

" … Hey, slow down!" Korra called after the princess, and the two boys followed right after. Asami had started around a bend in the corridor, and they ran swiftly to catch up with her.

* * *

The half dozen troops milling around the entrance to the power trench were more interested in discussing the peculiar disturbance in the detention block than in paying attention to their present boring duty. So engrossed were they in speculation as to the cause of the trouble that they failed to notice the fey wraith behind them. It moved from shadow to shadow like a night-stalking ferret, freezing when one of the troopers seemed to turn slightly in its direction, moving on again as if walking on air.

Several minutes later one of the troopers frowned inside his armor, turning to where he thought he had sensed a movement near the opening to the main passageway. There was nothing but an undefinable something which the ghost-like Kenobi had left behind. Acutely uncomfortable yet understandably unwilling to confess to hallucinations, the trooper turned back to the more prosaic conversation of his fellows. Someone finally discovered the two unconscious guards tied in the service lockers on board the captured freighter. Both men remained comatose despite all efforts to revive them.

Under the direction of several bickering officers, troopers carried their two armorless comrades down the ramp and toward the nearest hospital bay. On the way they passed two forms hidden by a small open service panel. Eska and Desna went unnoticed, despite their proximity to the hangar. As soon as the troops had passed, Eska finished removing a socket cover and hurriedly shoved her datapad into the opening. Lights commenced a wild flashing on her face and smoke started issuing from several seams in command console, and Desna hurried to remove the device. Immediately the smoke vanished, the undisciplined blinking faded to normalcy.

Eska spluttered, successfully giving the impression of a human who had expected a glass of mild wine and instead unwittingly downed several gulps of something 180 proof. "Well, next time watch where you stick your datacord," Desna chastised his companion. "You could have fried your insides." He eyed the socket. "That's a power outlet, stupid, not an information terminal." Eska released a defeated sigh, thoroughly finished with this whole trip.

Together they hunted for the proper outlet.

* * *

Korra, Mako, Bolin, and the Princess reached the end of an empty hallway. It dead-ended before a large window which overlooked a hangar, giving them a sweeping, tantalizing view of the freighter just below. Pulling out her comlink and looking around them with increasing nervousness, Korra spoke into the pickup. "Desna … do you copy?"

There was a threatening pause, then, "I read you. We had to abandon the region around the office."

"Are you both safe?"

He sighed, "For the moment. We're in the main hangar, across from the ship."

Korra looked toward the bay window in surprise. "I can't see you across the bay—we must be right above you. Stand by. We'll join you as soon as we can." She clicked off, smiling suddenly as the missions seemed close to its end.

"Wonder if the old man was able to knock out the tractor," Mako was muttering as he surveyed the scene below. A dozen or so troopers were moving in and out of the freighter. "Getting back to the ship's going to be like flying through the five Fire Rings of Fornax."

Asami Sato turned long enough to glance in surprise from the ship to Mako. "You came here in that wreck? You're braver than I thought." At once praised and insulted, Mako wasn't sure how to react. He settled for giving her a dirty look as they started back down the hallway, Bolin's large form bringing up the rear.

Rounding a corner, the four companions came to an abrupt halt. So did the twenty Equalist troopers marching toward them. Reacting naturally—which is to say, without thinking—Mako drew his pistol and charged the platoon, yelling and howling in several languages at the top of his lungs. Startled by the totally unexpected assault and wrongly assuming their attacker knew what he was doing, the troopers started to back away. Several wild shots from the pilot's pistol initiated complete panic. Ranks and composure shattered, the troopers broke and fled down the passage.

Drunk with his own prowess, Mako continued the chase, turning to shout back at Korra, Asami, and Bolin, "Get to the ship. I'll take care of these!"

"Are you out of your mind?" Bolin yelled at him. "Where do you think you're going?"

But his brother had already rounded a far bend in the corridor, and didn't hear. Not that it would have made any difference. Upset at his partner's disappearance, Bolin let out a loud, if unsettled war cry, and rushed down the hallway after him. That left Korra and Asami standing alone in the empty corridor.

"Maybe I was too hard on your friend," the princess confessed reluctantly. "He certainly is courageous."

"He certainly is an idiot!" a furious Korra countered tightly, both annoyed with Mako's actions, and at the thought that the princess found _him_ courageous. "I don't know what good it'll do us if he gets himself killed."

Muted alarms suddenly sounded from the bay below and behind them. "That's done it," Korra growled disgustedly. "Let's go."

Together they started off in search of a way down to a hangar-deck level. Mako and Bolin continued their rout of all opposition, running at top speed down the long hallway, yelling and brandishing their pistols. Occasionally they got off a shot whose effect was more valuable psychologically than tactically.

Half the troops had already scattered down various sub-passages and corridors. The ten troopers they continued to harry still raced headlong away from the two brothers, returning fire only indifferently. Then they came up against a dead end, which forced them to turn and confront their opponents. Seeing that the ten had halted, both Solo's likewise slowed. Gradually Mako and Bolin came to a complete stop. The two boys and the Equalists regarded one another silently.

Several of the troopers were staring, not at the Solo siblings, but past them. It suddenly occurred to the boys that they were very much alone, against the crowd of armored troopers and the same thought was beginning to seep into the minds of the guards they were confronting. Embarrassment gave way rapidly to anger. Rifles and pistols started to come up.

Mako took a step backward, fired one shot, then turned and ran like hell, tugging at Bolin's arm to follow. They heard the whistle and crump of energy weapons firing as they tore off back down the corridor, blaster bolts flying over their heads.

* * *

Korra grabbed the Princess and pulled her back into a recess. Asami was about to retort angrily at Korra's brusqueness when the sound of marching feet caused her to shrink back into the darkness with the shorter girl. A squad of soldiers hurried past, responding to the alarms that continued to ring steadily. Korra looked out at the retreating backs and tried to catch her breath. "Our only hope of reaching the ship is from the other side of the hangar. They already know someone's here." She started back down the corridor, motioning for Asami to follow.

Two guards appeared at the far end of the passageway, paused, and pointed directly at them. Turning, Korra and Asami began running back the way they had come. A larger squad of troopers rounded the far bend and came racing toward them. Blocked ahead and behind, they hunted frantically for another way out. Then Asami spotted the cramped sub-hallway and gestured to it.

Korra fired at the nearest of their pursuers and joined her... _the_ princess in running down the narrow passage. It looked like a minor service corridor. Behind them, pursuit sounded deafeningly loud in the confining space. But at least it minimized the amount of fire the troops could concentrate on them. A thick hatchway appeared ahead. The lighting beyond turned dimmer, raising Korra's hopes. If they could lock the hatch even for a few moments and lose themselves somewhere beyond, they might have a chance of shaking their immediate tormentors.

But, the hatch stayed open, showing no inclination to close automatically. Korra was about to let out a shout of triumph when the ground suddenly vanished ahead of her. With her toes hanging over nothingness, she flailed to regain her balance, succeeding just in time to nearly go over the edge of the retracted catwalk anyway as the Princess plowed into her from behind. Asami had instinctively wrapped her arms around Korra's midsection, hoping they'd stopped in time to avoid bowling over the edge. As Korra felt the weight of the Princess hit her back, she leaned backwards, pushing Asami's body into the wall to reverse the momentum and keep them both stable.

The catwalk had been reduced to a stub protruding into empty air. A cool draft caressed Korra's face as she studied walls that soared to unseen heights overhead and plunged to fathomless depths below. The service shaft was employed in circulating and recycling the atmosphere of the station. At the moment Korra was too frightened and concerned to be angry with the Princess for nearly sending them over the edge – though she knew she wouldn't be able to stay angry for long after meeting the other girls emerald gaze. Besides, other dangers competed for her attention.

A burst of energy exploded above their heads, sending metal slivers flying. "I think we made a wrong turn," Korra murmured, firing back at the advancing troops and illuminating the narrow corridor behind them with destruction. An open hatchway showed on the other side of the chasm. It might as well have been a light-year away. Hunting along the rim of the doorway, Asami located a switch and hit it quickly.

The hatch door behind them slid shut with a resounding boom. At least that cut off fire from the rapidly nearing soldiers. It also left the two fugitives balanced precariously on a small section of catwalk barely a meter square. If the remaining section were to unexpectedly withdraw into the wall, they would see more of the battle station's interior than either wished. Gesturing for the Princess to move aside as much as possible, Korra shielded her eyes and aimed the pistol at the hatch controls.

A brief burst of energy melted them flush with the wall, insuring that no one could open it easily from the other side. Then she turned her attention to the vast cavity blocking their path to the opposite portal. It beckoned invitingly—a small yellow rectangle of freedom. Only the soft rush of air from below sounded until Asami commented, "This is a shield-rated door, but it won't hold them back very long."

"We've got to get across there somehow," Korra agreed, once more examining the metal bordering the sealed doorway. "Find the controls for extending the bridge."

Some desperate searching produced nothing, while an ominous pounding and hissing sounded from behind the frozen door. A small spot of white appeared in the center of the metal, then began to spread and smoke. "They're coming through!" Korra groaned.

The Princess turned carefully to stare across the gap. "This must be a single-unit bridge, with the controls only on the other side." Reaching up to the point at the panel holding the unreachable controls, Korra's hand caught on something at her waist. A frustrated glance downward revealed the cause—and engendered a bit of practical insanity. The cable coiled tightly in small loops was thin and fragile seeming, but it was general military issue line and would have supported Bolin's weight easily. It certainly ought to hold Asami and herself.

Pulling the cable free of the waist catch, she gauged its length, matching it against the width of the abyss. This should span the distance with plenty to spare.

"What now?" the Princess inquired curiously. Korra didn't reply. Instead, she removed a small but heavy power unit from the utility belt of her armor and tied one end of the cable around it. Making sure the wrapping was secure, she stepped as close to the edge of their uncertain perch as she dared. Whirling the weighted end of the cord in increasing circles, she let it arc across the gorge.

It struck an outcropping of cylindrical conduits on the other side and fell downward. With forced patience she pulled the loose line back in, then recoiled it for another try. Once again the weighted end orbited in ever greater circles, and again she flung it across the gap. She could feel the rising heat behind her as she let it go, heat from the melting metal doorway.

This time the heavy end looped around an outcropping of pipes above, wrapped itself several times around, and slipped, battery end down, into a crack between them. Leaning backward, Korra tugged and pulled on the cable, pulling on it at the same time as she tried to rest all her weight on it. The cable showed no sign of parting. Wrapping the other end of the line several times around her waist and right arm, she reached out and pulled the Princess close to her with the other. The hatch door behind them was now a molten white, and liquid metal was running steadily from its borders. As Korra turned to tell the princess to ready herself, something warm and pleasant touched Korra's lips, alerting every nerve in her body.

She looked up in shock at Asami, her mouth still tingling from the kiss.

"Just for luck," Asami murmured with a slight, almost embarrassed smile as she put her arms around Korra, pulling herself tight to the armored girl. "We're going to need it."

Gripping the thin cable as tightly as possible with her left hand, Korra put her right over it, took a deep breath, and jumped out into air. If she had miscalculated the degree of arc in their swing, they would miss the open hatch and slam into the metal wall to either side or below it. If that happened she doubted she could maintain her grip on the rope. The heart-halting transit was accomplished in less time than that thought. In a moment Korra was on the other side, scrambling on her knees to make sure they didn't fall back into the pit.

Asami released her hold on Korra with admirable timing. She rolled forward and into the open hatchway, climbing gracefully to her feet as Korra fought to untangle herself from the cable. Asami rushed forward, offering Korra a hand with removing the cable from her armor. As their hands touched, they met each other's gaze and shared a small, shy smile.

They broke away when a distant whine became a loud hiss, then a groan as the hatch door on the other side gave way. It collapsed inward and tumbled into the depths. If it touched bottom, Korra didn't hear it. A few bolts struck the wall nearby them. Korra turned her own weapon on the unsuccessful troopers and returned the fire even as Asami was pulling her into the passageway behind. Once clear of the door she hit the activating switch. It shut tightly behind them. They would have several minutes, at least, without having to worry about being shot in the back.

On the other hand, Korra didn't have the slightest idea where they were, and she found herself wondering what had happened to Mako and Bolin.

* * *

Pilot and co-pilot had succeeded in shaking a portion of their pursuers, but it seemed that whenever they slipped free of several soldiers, more appeared to take their place.

No question about it: the word was out on them. Ahead, a series of shield doors was beginning to close. "Hurry, Bolin!" Mako urged. The larger boy grunted once, breathing like an over-used engine. Despite his immense strength, Bolin was not built for long-distance sprinting. Only his enormous stride had enabled him to keep pace with the lithe, long strides of Mako. Bolin left a piece of his shirt in one of the doors, but both slipped inside just before the five layers slammed shut.

"That ought to hold them for a while," Mako crowed with delight. Bolin rolled his eyes at him, but his partner fairly fluoresced with confidence.

"But how are we going to find the ship, now?" Bolin asked, the excitement of the day wearing him out. "How can we possibly find the girls, _and_ our way out?"

* * *

Tenzin Kenobi ducked into the shadows of a narrow passageway, seeming to become part of the metal itself as a large cluster of troopers hurried past him. Pausing to make certain they had all passed, he checked the corridor ahead before starting down it. But he failed to see the dark silhouette which eclipsed the light far behind him. Kenobi had avoided one patrol after another, slowly working his way back toward the docking bay holding the freighter. Just another two turns and he should be at the hangar.

What he would do then would be determined by how inconspicuous his charges had been. That young Korra, the adventurous Bolin and Mako, and the pair of twins had been involved in something other than quiet napping he already suspected from the amount of activity he had observed while making his way back from the power trench. Surely all those troops hadn't been out hunting just for him! But something else was troubling them, judging from the references he had overheard concerning a certain important prisoner, now escaped. That discovery had puzzled him, until he considered the restless natures of both Korra and Mako. Undoubtedly they were involved in some fashion.

Tenzin sensed something directly ahead and slowed cautiously. It had a most familiar feel to it, a half-remembered mental odor he could not quite place. Then the figure stepped out in front of him, blocking his entry to the hangar not five meters away. The outline and size of the figure completed the momentary puzzle. It was the maturity of the mind he had sensed that had temporarily confused him. His hand moved naturally to the hilt of his deactivated saber.

"I have been waiting a long time, Tenzni Kenobi," Darth Amon intoned solemnly. "We meet again at last. The circle has been completed." Kenobi sensed satisfaction beneath the hideous mask. "The presence I sensed earlier could only have been you."

Kenobi regarded the great form blocking his retreat and nodded slowly. He gave the impression of being more curious than impressed. "You still have much to learn."

"You were once my teacher," Amon admitted, "and I learned much from you. But the time of learning has long passed, and I am the master now."

The logic that had constituted the missing link in his brilliant pupil remained as absent as before. There would be no reasoning here, Kenobi knew. Igniting his saber, he assumed the pose of warrior ready, a movement accomplished with the ease and elegance of a dancer. Rather roughly, Amon imitated the movement. Several minutes followed without motion as the two men remained staring at each other, as if waiting for some proper, as yet unspoken signal.

Kenobi blinked once, shook his head, and tried to clear his eyes, which had begun to water slightly. Sweat beaded up on his forehead, and his eyelids fluttered again. "Your powers are weak," Amon noted emotionlessly. "Old man, you should never have come back. It will make your end less peaceful than you might have wished.

"You sense only a part of the Force, Darth," Kenobi murmured with the assurance of one to whom death is merely another sensation, like sleeping or making love or touching a candle. "As always, you perceive its reality as little as a utensil perceives the taste of food." Executing a move of incredible swiftness for one so old, Kenobi lunged at the massive shape. Amon blocked the stab with equal speed, riposting with a counterslash that Kenobi barely parried. Another parry and Kenobi countered again, using this opportunity to move around the towering Dark Lord.

They continued to trade blows, with the old man now backing toward the hangar. Once, his saber and Amon's locked, the interaction of the two energy fields producing a violent sparking and flashing. A low buzzing sound rose from the straining power units as each saber sought to override the other.

* * *

Desna peeked around the entrance to the docking bay, worriedly counting the number of troopers milling around the deserted freighter. "Where could they be?" He ducked back out of sight just as one of the guards glanced in his direction. A second, more cautious appraisal was more rewarding. It revealed Mako and Bolin hugging the wall of another tunnel on the far side of the bay.

Mako also was nonplussed at the number of guards. He muttered, "Didn't we just leave this party?" Bolin sighed, and both turned, only to relax and lower their weapons at the sight of Korra and the Princess.

"What kept you?" Mako quipped mirthlessly.

"We ran into," Asami explained, panting heavily, "some old friends."

Korra was staring at the freighter. "Is the ship all right?"

"Seems okay," was Mako's analysis. "It doesn't look like they've removed anything or disturbed her engines. The problem's going to be getting to it."

Asami suddenly pointed to one of the opposite tunnels. "Look!" Illuminated by the flare from contacting energy fields, Tenzin Kenobi and Darth Amon were backing toward the bay. The fight attracted the attention of others beside the Senator. Every one of the guards moved in for a better view of the Olympian conflict.

"Now's our chance," Mako observed, starting forward. All seven of the troopers guarding the ship broke and rushed toward the combatants, going to the Dark Lord's aid. Desna barely ducked aside as they ran past him.

Turning back into the alcove, he yelled to his companion. "Unplug your data pad, Eska. We're leaving." As soon as Eska unit slipped her device free of the socket, the twins to slowly edge out into the open bay. Kenobi heard the approaching commotion and spared a glance back into the hangar. The squad of troopers bearing down on him was enough to show that he was trapped.

Amon took immediate advantage of the momentary distraction to bring his saber over and down. Kenobi somehow managed to deflect the sweeping blow, at once parrying and turning a complete circle. "You still have your skill, but your power fades. Prepare to meet the Force, Tenzin."

Kenobi gauged the shrinking distance between the oncoming troops and himself, then turned a pitying gaze on Amon. "This is a fight you cannot win, Darth. Your power has matured since I taught you, but I too have grown much since our parting. If my blade finds its mark, you will cease to exist. But if you cut me down, I will only become more powerful. Heed my words."

"Your philosophies no longer confuse me, old man," Amon growled contemptuously. "I am the master now." Once again he lunged forward, feinting, and then slashing in a deadly downward arc with the saber. It struck home, cutting the old man cleanly in half. There was a brief flash as Kenobi's cloak fluttered to the deck in two neat sections. But Tenzin Kenobi was not in it. Wary of some tricks, Amon poked at the empty cloak sections with the saber. There was no sign of the old man. He had vanished as though he had never existed.

The guards slowed their approach and joined Amon in examining the place where Kenobi had stood seconds before. Several of them muttered, and even the awesome presence of the Sith Lord couldn't keep a few of them from feeling a little afraid. Once the guards had turned and dashed for the far tunnel, Mako and the others started for the starship —until Korra saw Tenzin cut in two. Instantly she shifted direction and was moving toward the guards.

"Tenzin!" she screamed, firing wildly toward the troops. Mako cursed, but turned to fire in support of Korra. One of the energy bolts struck the safety release on the tunnel blast door. The emergency hold broken, the heavy door fairly exploded downward. Both the guards and Amon leaped clear—the guards into the bay and Amon backward, to the opposite side of the door. Mako had turned and started for the entrance to the ship, but he paused as he saw Korra running toward the guards.

"It's too late!" Asami yelled at her. "It's over."

"No!" Korra half shouted, half sobbed. A familiar, yet different voice rang in her ears—Tenzin's voice.

"Korra … listen!" was all it said. Bewildered, Korra turned to hunt for the source of that admonition. She only saw Asami frantically beckoning to her as she followed Desna and Eska up the ramp.

"Come on! There's no time." Hesitating, her mind still on that imagined voice (or was it imagined?), a confused Korra took aim and felled several soldiers before she, too, whirled and retreated into the freighter.


	11. Chapter 11: Taking Flight

Chapter 11: Taking Flight

* * *

Dazed, Korra staggered toward the front of the ship. She barely noticed the sound of energy bolts, too weak to penetrate the ship's deflectors, exploding harmlessly outside. Her own safety was currently of little concern to her. Asami, impatiently waiting for the shorter girl to reach safety, took a few steps down the ramp and grabbed hold of Korra's arm, pulling her into the ship. With misty eyes Korra stared as Mako and Bolin adjusted controls.

"I hope that old man managed to knock out that tractor beam," the pilot was saying, "or this is going to be a very short ride."

Ignoring him, Korra returned to the hold area and slumped into a seat, her head falling into her hands. Asami regarded her quietly for a while, then removed her cloak. Moving to Korra, she placed it gently around the girl's shoulders.

"There wasn't anything you could have done," Asami whispered comfortingly. "It was all over in an instant."

"I can't believe he's gone," came Korra's reply, her voice a ghost of a whisper. "I can't."

"I know it's not exactly comforting, but we're going through the same thing. Alderaan…everything I knew, everyone I loved, was destroyed along with the planet. My home, my father…everything, just gone, with the press of a button."

Realizing that she'd been focused solely on her own pain, Korra reached out and took Asami's hands, "Asami, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry we couldn't do anything…" The shorter girl trailed off, knowing words wouldn't ease the burn of loss.

"It's okay, Korra," Asami offered a small smile as she looked into Korra's blue eyes, "we just have to make sure that all the lives lost aren't lost in vain. We _have_ to stop the Empire. I will be with you every step of the way, and we _will_ win this war, together."

Comforted by the knowledge that Asami would accompany her on this journey, Korra smiled and wrapped her arms around the Princess' shoulders, pulling the taller girl in for a tight hug. Both girls relaxed into the embrace, knowing that this marked the beginning of many things.

Mako shifted a lever, staring nervously ahead. But the massive bay door was constructed to respond to the approach of any vessel. The safety feature now served to facilitate their escape as the freighter slipped quickly past the still-opening door and out into free space. "Nothing," Solo sighed, studying several readouts with profound satisfaction. "Not so much as an erg of come-hither. He did it, all right."

Bolin offered a sigh of relief, then the concern returned to his face, "I just hope we can get far enough away before they send fighters after us."

The pilot's attention shifted to another series of gauges. "Right, Bo. I forgot, for a moment, that there are other ways of persuading us to return." His teeth flashed in a grin of determination. "But the only way they'll get us back in that traveling tomb is in pieces. Take over." Whirling, he ran out of the cockpit.

"Come with me, kid," he shouted at Korra as he entered the hold. "We're not out of this yet."

Korra didn't respond, didn't move, not wanting to break the comforting embrace and return to her sad reality. Asami turned an angry face to Mako. "Leave her alone. Can't you see what Tenzin meant to her?"

An explosion jarred the ship, nearly tumbling Mako to the deck. "So what? The old man gave himself to give us a chance to get away. You want to waste that, Korra? You want Kenobi to have wasted himself?"

Korra's head came up from Asami's shoulder and she stared with tired eyes at the young man. Without a word, she handed the cloak back to Asami and joined Mako. Giving Korra a reassuring smile, Mako gestured down a narrow accessway. Korra looked in the indicated direction, smiled grimly, and rushed down it as the elder Solo started down the opposing passage.

Korra found herself in a large rotating bubble protruding from the side of the ship. A long, wicked looking tube whose purpose was instantly apparent projected from the apex of the transparent hemisphere. The blue-eyed girl settled herself into the seat and commenced a rapid study of the controls. Activator here, firing grip here … She had fired such weapons a thousand times before—in her dreams.

Forward, Bolin and Asami were searching the speckled pit outside for the attacking fighters represented by firepricks on several screens. Bolin suddenly sighed throatily and pulled back on several controls as Asami let out a yelp. "Here they come." The starfield wheeled around Korra as an Equalist TIE fighter raced toward her, and then swung overhead to vanish into the distance. Within the tiny cockpit its pilot frowned as the supposedly battered freighter darted out of range.

Adjusting her own controls, she swung up and over in a high arc intended to take her on a fresh intercept course with the escaping ship. Mako fired at another fighter, and its pilot nearly slammed his engine through its mountings as he fought to avoid the powerful energy bolts. As he did so, his hurried maneuver brought him under and around to the other side of the Falcon. Even as she was lowering the glare reflector over her eyes, Korra opened up on the racing fighter.

Bolin was alternating his attention between the instruments and the tracking screens, while Asami strained to separate distant stars from nearby assassins. Two fighters dove simultaneously on the twisting, spiraling freighter, trying to line their weapons on the unexpectedly flexible craft. Mako fired at the descending globes, and Korra followed with her own weapon a second later.

Both fired on the starship and then shot past. "They're coming in too fast," Korra yelled into her comlink. Another enemy bolt struck the freighter forward and was barely shunted aside by its deflectors. The cockpit shuddered violently, and gauges whined in protest at the quantity of energy they were being asked to monitor and compensate for.

Another fighter unloosed a barrage on the freighter, only this time the bolt pierced an overloaded screen and actually struck the side of the ship. Though partially deflected, it still carried enough power to blow out a large control panel in the main passageway, sending a rain of sparks and smoke in all directions. Desna started stolidly toward the miniature inferno as the ship lurched crazily, throwing the less stable Eska into a cabinet full of component chips.

A warning light began to wink for attention in the cockpit. "We can't take another hit like that!" Bolin exclaimed, and Asami merely stared out the windshield with her lips set in a thin line. Then, a fighter floated down on the damaged freighter, right into Korra's sights. Her mouth moving silently as she aimed, Korra fired at it. The incredibly agile little vessel darted out of her range, but as it passed beneath them Mako picked it up instantly, and commenced a steady following fire.

Without warning the fighter erupted in an incredible flash of multicolored light, throwing a billion bits of super-heated metal to every section of the cosmos. Mako whirled and gave Korra a victory wave, which the young girl gleefully returned. Then they turned back to their weapons as yet another fighter stormed over the freighter's hull, firing at its transmitter dish.

In the middle of the main passageway, angry flames raged around pair of twins, one of which was holding a fire extinguisher. A fine white powdery spray issued from Desna's hands, as Eska pointed towards trouble spots. Wherever the spray touched, the fire retreated sharply.

Korra tried to relax, to become a part of the weapon. Almost without being aware of it, she was firing at a retreating Equalist. When she blinked, it was to see the flaming fragments of the enemy craft forming a perfect ball of light outside the turret. It was her turn to spin and flash the elder Solo a grin of triumph.

In the cockpit, Asami paid close attention to scattered readouts as well as searching the sky for additional ships. She directed her voice toward an open mike. "There are still two more of them out there. Looks like we've lost the lateral monitors and the starboard deflector shield."

"Don't worry," Mako told her, with as much hope as confidence, "she'll hold together." He gave the walls a pleading stare. "You hear me, ship? Hold together! Bolin, try to keep them on our port side. If we—" He was forced to break off as a TIE fighter seemed to materialize out of nowhere, energy bolts reaching out from it toward him. Its companion craft came up on the freighter's other side and Korra found herself firing steadily at it, ignoring the immensely powerful energy it threw at the ship. At the last possible instant before it passed out of range, she swung the weapon's nozzle minutely, her finger tightening convulsively on the fire control.

The Equalist fighter turned into a rapidly expanding cloud of phosphorescing dust. The other fighter apparently considered the shrunken odds, turned, and retreated at top speed. "We've made it!" Bolin shouted, turning to give the startled Asami an unexpected hug. She laughed, and patted his back awkwardly.

* * *

Darth Amon strode into the control room where Governor Tarrlok stood staring at a huge, brilliantly lit screen. It displayed a sea of stars, but it was not the spectacular view which absorbed the Governor's thoughts at the moment. He barely glanced around as Amon entered. "Are they away?" the Dark Lord demanded.

"They've just completed the jump to hyperspace. No doubt they are at this very moment congratulating themselves on their daring and success." Now Tarrlok turned to face Amon, a hint of warning in his tone. "I'm taking an awful chance, on your insistence, Amon. This had better work. Are you certain the homing beacon is secure aboard their ship?"

Amon exuded confidence beneath the reflective mask. "There is nothing to fear. This will be a day long remembered. It already has been witness to the final extinction of the Jedi. Soon it will see the end of the Alliance and the rebellion."

* * *

Mako switched places with Bolin, the younger man grateful for the opportunity to relinquish the controls. As the pilot moved aft to check the extent of the damage, a determined-looking Asami passed him in the corridor. "What do you think, Princess?" Mako inquired, well pleased with himself. "Not a bad bit of rescuing. You know, sometimes I amaze even myself."

"That doesn't sound too hard," she admitted readily. "The important thing is not my safety, but the fact that the information in the tapes is still intact."

"What's on those tapes that's so important, anyway?"

Asami considered the blazing starfield forward. "Complete technical schematics of the battle station. I only hope that when the data is analyzed, a weakness can be found. Until then, until the station itself is destroyed, we must go on. This war isn't over yet."

"It is for me," objected the pilot. "I'm not on this mission for your revolution. Economics interest me, not politics. There's business to be done under any government. And I'm not doing it for you, Princess. I expect to be well paid for risking my ship and my brothers and my hide."

"You needn't worry about your reward," she assured him sadly, turning to leave. "If money is what you love … that's what you will receive." On leaving the cockpit she saw Korra coming forward, and she spoke softly to her in passing. "Your friend is indeed a mercenary. I wonder if he really cares about anything—or anybody."

Korra stared after her until she disappeared into the main hold area, then whispered, "I do … I care." Then she moved into the cockpit and sat in the seat Bolin had just vacated. "What do you think of her, Mako?"

Mako didn't hesitate. "I try not to."

Korra probably hadn't intended her response to be audible, but Mako overheard the blue-eyed girl's murmur of "Good" nonetheless.

"Still," Mako ventured thoughtfully, "she's got a lot of spirit to go with her sass. I don't know, do you think it's possible for a Princess and a guy like me …?"

"No," Korra cut him off sharply. She turned and looked away. Mako smiled at the younger companion's jealousy, uncertain in his own mind whether he had added the comment to bait his naive friend—or because it was the truth.

* * *

Yavin was not a habitable world. The huge gas giant was patterned with pastel high-altitude cloud formations. Here and there the softly lambent atmosphere was molded by cyclonic storms composed of six-hundred-kilometer-per-hour winds which boiled rolling gases up from the Yavin-esque troposphere. It was a world of lingering beauty and quick death for any who might try to penetrate to its comparatively small core of frozen liquids. Several of the giant planet's numerous moons, however, were planet-sized themselves, and of these, three could support humanoid life.

Particularly inviting was the satellite designated by the system's discoverers as number four. It shone like an emerald in Yavin's necklace of moons, rich with plant and animal life. But it was not listed among those worlds supporting human settlement. Yavin was located too far from the settled regions of the galaxy. Perhaps the latter reason, or both, or a combination of causes still unknown had been responsible for whatever race had once risen from satellite four's jungles, only to disappear quietly long before the first human explorer set foot on the tiny world.

Little was known of them save that they left a number of impressive monuments, and that they were one of the many races which had aspired to the stars only to have their desperate reach fall short. Now all that remained were the mounds and foliage-clad clumps formed by jungle-covered buildings. But though they had sunk back into the dust, their artifacts and their world continued to serve an important purpose.

Strange cries and barely perceptible moans sounded from every tree and copse; hoots and growls and strange mutterings issued from creatures content to remain concealed in the dense undergrowth. Whenever dawn broke over moon the fourth, heralding one of its long days, an especially feral chorus of shrieks and weirdly modulated screams would resound through the thick mist. Even stranger sounds surged continually from one particular place. Here lay the most impressive of those edifices which a vanished race had raised toward the heavens. It was a temple, a roughly pyramidal structure so colossal that it seemed impossible it could have been built without the aid of modern gravitonic construction techniques. Yet all evidence pointed only to simple machines, hand technology—and, perhaps, devices alien and long lost.

While the science of this moon's inhabitants had led them to a dead end as far as off-world travel was concerned, they had produced several discoveries which in certain ways surpassed similar Equalist accomplishments—one of which involved a still unexplained method of cutting and transporting gargantuan blocks of stone from the crust of the moon. From these monstrous blocks of solid rock, the massive temple had been constructed. The jungle had scaled even its soaring crest, clothing it in rich green and brown. Only near its base, in the temple front, did the jungle slide away completely, to reveal a long, dark entrance cut by its builders and enlarged to suit the needs of the structure's present occupants.

A tiny machine, its smooth metal sides and silvery hue incongruous amidst the all-pervasive green, appeared in the forest. It hummed like a fat, swollen beetle as it conveyed its cluster of passengers toward the open temple base. Crossing a considerable clearing, it was soon swallowed up by the dark maw in the front of the massive structure, leaving the jungle once more in the paws and claws of invisible squallers and screechers. The original builders would never have recognized the interior of their temple.

Seamed metal had replaced rock, and poured paneling did service for chamber division in place of wood. Nor would they have been able to see the buried layers excavated into the rock below, layers which contained hangar upon hangar linked by powerful elevators. A landspeeder came to a gradual stop within the temple, whose first level was the uppermost of those ship-filled hangars. Its engine died obediently as the vehicle settled to the ground. A noisy cluster of humans waiting nearby ceased their conversation and rushed toward the craft.

Fortunately Asami Sato quickly emerged from the speeder, or the man who reached it first might have pulled her bodily from it, so great was his delight at the sight of her. He settled for giving her a smothering hug as his companions called their own greetings. "You're safe! We'd feared you'd been killed." Abruptly he composed himself, stepped away from her, and executed a formal bow. "When we heard about Alderaan, we were afraid that you were … lost along with the rest of the population."

"All that is past history, Commander Bumi," she said. "We have a future to live for. Alderaan and its people are gone." Her voice turned bitter cold, frightening in so delicate-looking a person. "We must see that such does not happen again. We don't have time for our sorrows, Commander," she continued briskly. "The battle station has surely tracked us here." Mako started to protest, but she shut him up with logic and a stern look. "That's the only explanation for the ease of our escape. They sent only four TIE fighters after us. They could as easily have launched a hundred."

Mako had no reply for that, but continued to fume silently. Then Asami gestured to Desna and Eska. "You must use the information locked in the tapes these two carry to form a plan of attack. It's our only hope. The station itself is more powerful than anyone suspected." Her voice dropped. "If the data does not yield a weakness, there will be no stopping them."

Korra enjoyed seeing Asami like this, clearly in her element as she issued commands to the Alliance soldiers, who carried them out swiftly without question. Asami turned to the ragtag group, catching Korra staring at her – and Korra quickly blushed and averted her eyes while Asami smiled softly. "This way," the Princess motioned to the Rebel Base, and began to walk towards it.

Theoretically, no weapon could penetrate the exceptionally dense stone of the ancient temple-base, but Korra had seen the shattered remains of Alderaan and knew that for those in the incredible battle station the entire moon would present simply another abstract problem in mass-energy conversion.

Desna and Eska stood side by side as the Rebel technicians began working on the data tapes. On an array of screens and readouts nearby the technical information stored on the submicroscopic record tapes was being played out. Hours of it—diagrams, charts, statistics. First the rush of material was slowed and digested by more sophisticated computer minds. Then the most critical information was turned over to human analysts for detailed evaluation.

The central briefing room was located deep within the bowels of the temple. The long, low-ceiling auditorium was dominated by a raised dais and huge electronic display screen at its far end. Pilots, navigators, and a sprinkling of R2 units filled the seats. Impatient, and feeling very out of place, Mako and Bolin stood as far away from the stage, with its assemblage of officers and Senators, as possible. Mako scanned the crowd, searching for Korra. Despite some common sense entreaties, the crazy kid had gone and joined the regular pilots. He didn't see Korra, but he recognized the Princess as she talked somberly with some be-medaled older man.

When the medaled man, a tall, dignified gentleman with too many deaths on his soul, moved away from the Princess to stand by the far side of the screen, Mako turned his attention to him, as did everyone else in the room. As soon as an expectant silence had gripped the crowd, Commander Bumi adjusted the tiny mike on his chest and indicated the small group seated close to him. "You all know these people," he intoned with quiet power. "They are the Senators and Generals whose worlds have given us support, whether open or covert. They have come to be with us in what may well prove to be the decisive moment." He let his gaze touch many in the crowd, and none who were so favored remained unmoved. "The Equalist battle station you now all have heard of is approaching from the far side of Yavin and its sun. That gives us a little extra time, but it must be stopped—once and for all—before it can reach this moon, before it can bring its weaponry to bear on us as it did on Alderaan."

A murmur ran through the crowd at the mention of that world, so callously obliterated. "The station," Bumi went on, "is heavily shielded and mounts more firepower than half the Equalist fleet. But its defenses were designed to fend off large-scale, capital ship assaults. A small, one- or two-man fighter should be able to slip through its defensive screens." A slim, supple man who resembled an older version of Mako rose. Bumi acknowledged his presence. "What is it, Red Leader?"

The man gestured toward the display screen, which showed a computer portrait of the battle station. "Pardon me for asking, sir, but what good are our snub fighters going to be against that?"

Bumi considered. "Well, the Empire doesn't think a one-man fighter is any threat to anything except another small ship, like a TIE fighter, or they would have provided tighter screens. Apparently they're convinced that their defensive weaponry can fend off any light attacks. But an analysis of the plans provided by Princess Asami has revealed what we think is a weakness in the station's design. A big ship couldn't get near it, but an X- or Y-wing fighter might."

Commander Bumi paused, throwing a glance towards the aforementioned princess. "It's a small thermal exhaust port. Its size belies its importance, as it appears to be an unshielded shaft that runs directly into the main reactor system powering the station. Since this serves as an emergency outlet for waste heat in the event of reactor overproduction, its usefulness would be eliminated by particle shielding. A direct hit would initiate a chain reaction that would destroy the station."

Mutterings of disbelief ran through the room. The more experienced the pilot, the greater his expressed disbelief. "I didn't say your approach would be easy," Bumi admonished them. He gestured at the screen. "You must maneuver straight in down this shaft, level off in the trench, and skim the surface to—this point. The target is only two meters across. It will take a precise hit at exactly ninety degrees to reach the reactor systematization. And only a direct hit will start the complete reaction. I said the port wasn't particle-shielded. However, it is completely ray-shielded. That means no energy beams. You'll have to use proton torpedoes."

A few of the pilots laughed humorlessly. One of them was a teenaged fighter jockey seated next to Korra who bore the name of Kai. Desna was there also, seated next to an orange and white R2 unit who emitted a long whistle of hopelessness, and Eska was sat on the other side of the droid.

"A two-meter target at maximum speed—with a torpedo, yet," Kai snorted. "That's impossible even for the computer."

"But it's not impossible," protested Korra. "I used to bulls-eye womp-rats in my T-16 back home. They're not much bigger than two meters."

"Is that so?" the rakishly uniformed youth noted derisively. "Tell me, when you were going after your particular varmint, were there a thousand other, what did you call it, 'womp-rats' armed with power rifles firing up at you?" Kai then shook his head sadly. "With all that firepower on the station directed at us, this will take a little more than barnyard marksmanship, believe me."

As if to confirm Kai's pessimism, Bumi indicated a string of lights on the ever-changing schematic. "Take special note of these emplacements. There's a heavy concentration of firepower on the latitudinal axes, as well as several dense circum-polar clusters. Also, their field generators will probably create a lot of distortion, especially in and around the trench. I figure that maneuverability in that sector will be less than point three."

This produced more murmurs and a few groans from the assembly. "Remember," the Commander went on, "you must achieve a direct hit. Yellow squadron will cover for Red on the first run. Green will cover Blue on the second. Any questions?" A muted buzz filled the room.

One man stood, lean and handsome—too much so, it seemed, to be ready to throw away his life for something as abstract as freedom. "What if both runs fail? What happens after that?"

Bumi smiled tightly. "There won't be any 'after that.' " The man nodded slowly, understandingly, and sat down. "Anyone else?" Silence now, pregnant with expectation. "Then man your ships, and may the Force be with you."

Like oil draining from a shallow pot, the seated ranks of men, women, and machines rose and flowed toward the exits. Elevators hummed busily, lifting more and more deadly shapes from buried depths to the staging area in the primary temple hangar as Korra, Desna, and Eska walked toward the hangar entrance. Neither the bustling flight crews, nor the pilots performing final checkouts, nor the massive sparks thrown off as power couplings were disconnected captured Korra's attention at the moment. Instead, it was held by the activity of two far more familiar figures. Mako and Bolin were loading a pile of small strongboxes onto an armored landspeeder. They were completely absorbed with this activity, ignoring the preparations going on all around them. Mako glanced up briefly as Korra and the twins approached, then returned to his loading.

Korra simply watched sadly, conflicting emotions careening confusedly off one another inside her. Mako was cocky, reckless, intolerant, and smug. He was also brave to a fault, instructive, and humorously sarcastic . The combination made for a confusing friend—but a friend nonetheless. "You got your reward," Korra finally observed, indicating the boxes. Mako nodded once. "And you're leaving, then?"

"That's right. We've got some old debts to pay off, and even if we didn't, I don't think I'd be fool enough to stick around here." He eyed Korra appraisingly. "You're pretty good in a scrape. Why don't you come with us? Bolin and I could use you."

The mercenary gleam in Mako's eyes only made Korra mad. "Why don't you look around you and see something besides yourself for a change? You know what's going to happen here, what they're up against. They could use a good pilot. But you're turning your back on them."

Mako didn't appear upset at Korra's tirade. "What good's a reward if you're not around to spend it? Attacking that battle station isn't my idea of courage—more like suicide."

"Yeah … Take care of yourself, Mako," Korra said quietly, turning to leave. "But I guess that's what you're best at, isn't it?" She then gave Bolin a tight hug, "Be careful, Bo, stay out of trouble." She started back into the hangar depths, flanked by the two twins, who had watched the exchange with indifference.

Mako stared after them, hesitated, then called, "Hey, Korra … may the Force be with you."

Korra looked back to see Mako and Bolin watching her. They waved to her—sort of. Then they were swallowed up by moving mechanics and machinery. Mako returned to his work, lifted a box—and stopped, to see Bolin gazing fixedly at him. "What are you staring at, Bo? I know what I'm doing. Get back to work!" Slowly, still eyeing his partner, the larger boy returned to the task of loading the heavy crates.

Sorrowful thoughts of Mako vanished when Korra saw the petite, slim figure standing by her ship— the ship she had been granted. "Are you sure this is what you want?" Princess Asami asked her. "It could be a deadly reward."

Korra's eyes were filled with the sleek, venomous metal shape. "More than anything."

Asami frowned, clearly worried about the younger girl. "Then what's wrong?"

Korra looked back at Asami and shrugged. "It's Mako. I thought he'd change his mind. I thought he'd join us."

"A man must follow his own path," Asami told her, sounding now like the Senator she is. "No one can choose it for him. Mako Solo's priorities differ from ours. I wish it were otherwise, but I can't find it in my heart to condemn him."

"I know, I know. It's just, after all that…," Korra trailed off, wanting to say that their mismatched group of friends was the only family she had now, but she was too embarrassed to voice that thought. "Well, I'm glad you're here, Asami."

The Princess blushed, putting her hands on Korra's shoulders and bringing the shorter girl in closer, and gave her a quick, almost embarrassed kiss, and turned to go. "For luck, again. May the force be with you, Korra"

Korra watched Asami walk away. "I only wish," She murmured to herself as she started back to her ship, "that Tenzin were here." So intent was she on thoughts of Kenobi, the Princess, and Mako that she didn't notice the larger figure which tightly locked on to her arm. She turned, her initial anger gone instantly in astonishment as she recognized the figure.

"Korra!" the slightly older man exclaimed. "I don't believe it! How'd you get here? Are you going out with us?"

"Toza!" Korra embraced her friend warmly. "Of course I'll be up there with you." Her smile faded slightly. "I haven't got a choice, anymore." Then she brightened again. "Listen, have I got some stories to tell you …" The steady whooping and laughing the two made was in marked contrast to the solemnity with which the other men and women in the hangar went about their business.

The commotion attracted the attention of an older, war-worn man known to the younger pilots only as Blue Leader. His face wrinkled with curiosity as he approached the two younger pilots. It was a face scorched by the same fire that flickered in his eyes, a blaze kindled not by revolutionary fervor but by years of living through and witnessing far too much injustice. Behind that fatherly visage a raging demon fought to escape. Soon, very soon, he would be free to let it loose. Now he was interested in these two kids, who in a few hours were likely to be particles of frozen meat floating about Yavin.

One of them he recognized. "Aren't you Korra Skywalker? Have you been checked out on the Incom T-65?"

"Sir," Toza put in before his friend could reply, "Korra's the best bush pilot in the outer-rim territories." The older man patted Korra reassuringly on the back as they studied her waiting ship.

"Something to be proud of. I've got over a thousand hours in an Incom skyhopper myself." Blue Leader paused a moment before going on. "I met your father once when I was just a boy, Korra. He was a great pilot. You'll do all right out there. If you've got half your father's skill, you'll do a damn sight better than all right."

"Thank you, sir. I'll try."

"There's not much difference control-wise between an X-wing T-65," Blue Leader went on, "and a skyhopper." His smile turned ferocious. "Except the payload's of a somewhat different nature." He left them and hurried toward his own ship.

Korra had a hundred questions to ask him, and no time for even one. Toza then turned to her, "I've got to get aboard my own boat, Korra. Listen, you'll tell me your stories when we come back. All right?"

"All right. I told you I'd make it here someday, Toza."

"You did."

Her friend was moving toward a cluster of waiting fighters, adjusting his flight suit. "It's going to be like old times, Korra. We're a couple of shooting stars that can't be stopped!" Korra laughed. They used to reassure themselves with that cry when they piloted starships of sandhills and dead logs behind the flaking, pitted buildings of Anchorhead … years and years ago. Once more Korra turned toward her ship, admiring its deadly lines. Despite Blue Leader's assurances, she had to admit that it didn't look much like an Incom skyhopper.

Korra mounted the cockpit entry. Farther down the hangar she saw Blue Leader already set in his acceleration chair and signaling to his ground crew. Another roar was added to the monstrous din filling the hangar area as ship after ship activated its engines. In that enclosed rectangle of temple the steady thunder was overpowering. Slipping into the cockpit seat, Korra studied the various controls as ground attendants began wiring her via cords and umbilicals into the ship. Her confidence increased steadily. The instrumentation was necessarily simplified and, as Blue Leader had indicated, much like her old skyhopper.

Something patted her helmet, and she glanced left to see the crew chief leaning close. He had to shout to be heard above the deafening howl of multiple engines. "Are you sure you're ready for this? You don't have any real experience piloting one of these, and this is war. You could be blown to bits!"

Korra's face set with a determined expression, and she shouted back to the chief, "I'm doing this, and you just have to deal with it!"

The chief shrugged then jumped clear of the ship as Korra commenced the final checkout of all instruments. It slowly occurred to her what she and the others were about to attempt. Not that her personal feelings could override her decision to join them. She was no longer an individual, functioning solely to satisfy her personal needs. Something now bound her to every other man and woman in this hangar – to the Princess, who was counting on their success. All around her, scattered scenes of good-bye were taking place—some serious, some kidding, all with the true emotion of the moment masked by efficiency.

Korra turned away from where one pilot left a mechanic, possibly a sister or wife, or just a friend, with a sharp, passionate kiss. She wondered how many of them had their own little debts to settle with the Empire, and she wished that she had been able to spend a little more time with Asami. Something crackled in her helmet. In response, she touched a small lever. The ship began to roll forward, slowly but with increasing speed, toward the gaping mouth of the temple.


	12. Chapter 12: A Station Destroyed

Author's Note: Still own nothing;

Also, thank you to those who have favorited and reviewed, I appreciate it. To answer a few,

CrazyExtreme- Yes, I noticed my mistakes and went back through each chapter to fix them, I Hope I caught them all - I was watching the movie as I typed out my notes, and must have forgotten myself as I documented Luke's actions as Korra's

AndRyu-TSD- Thanks for pointing that out, I will try to not forget that

AmburN- Thanks!

* * *

Chapter 12: A Station Destroyed

* * *

Asami Sato sat silently before the huge screen on which Yavin and its moons were displayed. A large red dot moved steadily toward the fourth of those satellites. Bumi and several other field commanders of the Alliance stood behind her, their eyes also intent on the screen. Tiny green flecks began to appear around the fourth moon, to coalesce into small clouds like hovering emerald gnats. Commander Bumi put a hand on her shoulder. It was comforting.

"The red represents the progress of the Imperial battle station as it moves deeper into Yavin's system," he stated, eyes not leaving the screen.

"Our ships are all away," a Commander behind him declared.

A single man stood alone in the cylindrical hold, secured to the top of a rapier-thin Rebel tower. Staring through fixed-mount electro-binoculars, he was the sole visible representative of the vast technology buried in the green purgatory below. Muted cries, moans, and primeval gurglings drifted up to him from the highest treetops. Some were frightening, some less so, but none were as indicative of power held in check as the four silvery starships which burst into view above the observer.

Keeping a tight formation, they exploded through humid air to vanish in seconds into the morning cloud cover far above. Sound-shadows rattled the trees moments later, in a forlorn attempt to catch up to the engines which had produced them. Slowly assuming attack formations combining X- and Y-wing ships, the various fighters began to move outward from the moon, out past the oceanic atmosphere of giant Yavin, out to meet the technologic executioner. The man who had observed the byplay between Toza and Korra now lowered his glare visor and adjusted his half-automatic, half-manual gunsights as he checked the ships to either side of him.

"Blue team," he addressed his inter-ship pickup, "this is Blue Leader. Adjust your selectors and check in. Approaching target at one point three …"

Ahead, the bright sphere of what looked like one of Yavin's moons - but wasn't - began to glow with increasing brightness. It shone with an eerie metallic glow utterly unlike that of any natural satellite. As he watched the giant battle station make its way around the rim of Yavin, Blue Leader's thoughts traveled back over the years. Over the uncountable injustices, the innocents taken away for interrogation and never heard from again—the whole multitude of evils incurred by an increasingly corrupt and indifferent Equalist government. All those terrors and agonies were concentrated, magnified, represented by the single bloated feat of engineering they were approaching now. "This is it, team," he said to the mike. "Blue Two, you're too far out. Close it up, Kai."

The young pilot Korra had encountered in the temple briefing room glanced to starboard, then back to his instruments. He executed a slight adjustment, frowning. "Sorry, boss. My ranger seems to be a few points off. I'll have to go on manual."

"Check, Blue Two. Watch yourself. All ships, stand by to lock S-foils in attack mode." One after another, from Korra, Toza, Kai, and the other members of Blue assault squadron, the replies came back.

"Standing by …"

"Execute," Blue Leader commanded, when Kuon and Ryu had indicated they were in readiness.

The double wings on the X-wing fighters split apart, like narrow seeds. Each fighter now displayed four wings, its wing-mounted armament and quadruple engines now deployed for maximum firepower and maneuverability. Ahead, the Equalist station continued to grow. Surface features became visible as each pilot recognized docking bays, broadcast antennae, and other man-made mountains and canyons. As she neared that threatening black sphere for the second time, Korra's breathing grew faster. Automatic life-support machinery detected the respiratory shift and compensated properly.

Something began to buffet her ship, almost as if she were back in her skyhopper again, wrestling with the unpredictable winds of Tatooine. She experienced a bad moment of uncertainty until the calming voice of Blue Leader sounded in her ears.

"We're passing through their outer shields. Hold tight. Lock down freeze-floating controls and switch your own deflectors on, double front."

The shaking and buffeting continued, worsened. Not knowing how to compensate, Korra did exactly what she should have: remained in control and followed orders. Then the turbulence was gone and the deathly cold peacefulness of space had returned. "That's it, we're through," Blue Leader told them quietly. "Keep all channels silent until we're on top of them. It doesn't look like they're expecting much resistance."

Though half the great station remained in shadow, they were now near enough for Korra to be able to discern individual lights on its surface. A ship that could show phases matching a moon … once again she marveled at the misplaced ingenuity and effort which had gone into its construction. Thousands of lights scattered across its curving expanse gave it the appearance of a floating city. Some of Korra's comrades, since this was their first sight of the station, were even more impressed.

"Look at the size of that thing!" Kai gasped over his open pickup.

"Cut the chatter, Blue Two," Blue Leader ordered. "Accelerate to attack velocity."

Grim determination showed in Korra's expression as she flipped several switches above her head and began adjusting her computer target readout. Her R2 unit reexamined the nearing station and thought untranslatable electronic thoughts.

Blue Leader compared the station with the location of their proposed target area. "Red Leader," he called toward the pickup, "this is Blue Leader. We're in position; you can go right in. The exhaust shaft is farther to the north. We'll keep 'em busy down here." Red Leader was the physical opposite of Korra's squadron commander. He resembled the popular notion of a credit accountant—short, slim, shy of face. His skills and dedication, however, easily matched those of his counterpart and old friend.

"We're starting for the target shaft now, Blue. Stand by to take over if anything happens."

"Check, Red Leader," came the other's reply. "We're going to cross their equatorial axis and try to draw their main fire. May the Force be with you." From the approaching swarm, two squads of fighters broke clear. The X-wing ships dove directly for the bulge of the station, far below, while the Y-ships curved down and northward over its surface.

* * *

Within the station, alarm sirens began a mournful, clangorous wail as slow-to-react personnel realized that the impregnable fortress was actually under organized attack. Admiral Ghazan and his tacticians had expected the rebels' resistance to be centered around a massive defense of the moon itself. They were completely unprepared for an offensive response consisting of dozens of tiny snub ships.

Equalist efficiency was in the process of compensating for this strategic oversight. Soldiers scrambled to man enormous defensive-weapons emplacements. Servo-drivers thrummed as powerful motors aligned the huge devices for firing. Soon a web of annihilation began to envelop the station as energy weapons, electrical bolts, and explosive solids ripped out at the oncoming rebel craft.

* * *

"This is Blue Five," Korra announced to her mike as she nose-dived her ship in a radical attempt to confuse any electronic predictors below. The gray surface of the battle station streaked past her ports. "I'm going in."

A voice crackled in through her headset, at first unrecognizable, since it was not that of a pilots.

"Korra? Be careful out there. You promised you'd be back for your rescue mission's reward. I'm holding you to that." Asami's voice echoed in the X-wing cabin as Korra absorbed the Princess's voice, for what she felt may be the last time. The crackling in her ear returned, and wishful thinking allowed her to believe it may be Asami with another message, but the gruff voice was male.

"I'm right behind you, Blue Five," a voice recognizable as Toza's sounded in her ears. The target in Korra's sights was stable as she evaded the Equalist defenders. Bolts flew from the blue-eyed girl's tiny vessel's weapons. One started a huge fire on the dim surface below, which would burn until the crew of the station could shut off the flow of air to the damaged section. Korra's glee turned to terror as she realized she couldn't swerve her craft in time to avoid passing through the fireball of unknown composition.

"Pull out, Korra, pull out!" Toza was screaming at her. But despite commands to shift course, the automatic pressors wouldn't allow the necessary centrifugal force. Her fighter plunged into the expanding ball of superheated gases. Then she was through and clear, on the other side. A rapid check of her controls enabled her to relax. Passage through the intense heat had been insufficient to damage anything vital—though all four wings bore streaks of black, carbonized testimony to the nearness of her escape.

Hell-flowers bloomed outside her ship as she swung it up and around in a sharp curve. "You all right, Korra?" came Toza's concerned query.

"I got a little toasted, but I'm okay."

A different, stern voice sounded. "Blue Five," warned the squadron leader, "you'd better give yourself more lead time or you're going to destroy yourself as well as the Equalist construction."

"Yes, sir. I've got the hang of it now. Like you said, it's not exactly like flying a skyhopper."

Energy bolts and sun-bright beams continued to create a chromatic maze in the space above the station as the rebel fighters crisscrossed back and forth over its surface, firing at whatever looked like a decent target. Two of the tiny craft concentrated on a power terminal. It blew up, throwing lightning-sized electric arcs from the station's innards.

* * *

Inside, troopers, mechanicals, and equipment were blown in all directions by subsidiary explosions as the effects of the blast traveled back down various conduits and cables. Where the explosion had hulled the station, escaping atmosphere sucked helpless soldiers and droids out into a bottomless black tomb.

Moving from position to position, a figure of dark calm amid the chaos, was Darth Amon. A harried Commander rushed up to him and reported breathlessly. "Lord Amon, we count at least thirty of them, of two types. They are so small and quick the fixed guns cannot follow them accurately. They continuously evade the predictors."

"Get all TIE crews to their fighters. We'll have to go out after them and destroy them ship by ship." Within numerous hangars red lights began flashing and an insistent alarm started to ring. Ground crews worked frantically to ready ships as flight-suited Equalist pilots grabbed for helmets and packs.

* * *

"Korra," requested Blue Leader as she skimmed smoothly through a rain of fire, "let me know when you're off the block."

"I'm on my way now."

"Watch yourself," the voice urged over the cockpit speaker. "There's a lot of fire coming from the starboard side of that deflection tower."

"I'm on it, don't worry," Korra responded confidently. Putting her fighter into a twisting dive, she sliced once more across metal horizons. Antennae and small protruding emplacements burst into transitory flame as bolts from her wing tips struck with deadly accuracy. She grinned as she pulled up and away from the surface as intense lines of energy passed through space recently vacated. Darned if it wasn't like hunting womp-rats back home in the crumbling canyons of Tatooine's wastes.

Toza followed Korra on a similar run, even as Equalist pilots prepared to lift clear of the station. Within the many docking bays technical crews rushed hurriedly to unlock power cables and conclude desperate final checks. More care was taken in preparing a particular craft nearest one of the bay ports, the one into which Darth Amon barely succeeded in squeezing his huge frame. Once set in the seat he slid a second set of eye shields across his face.

* * *

The atmosphere of the war room back in the temple was one of nervous expectancy. Occasional blinks and buzzes from the main battle screen sounded louder than the soft susurration of hopeful people trying to reassure one another. Near a far corner of the mass of flickering lights a technician leaned a little closer to his own readouts before speaking into the pickup suspended near his mouth. "Squad leaders—attention; squad leaders—attention! We've picked up a new set of signals from the other side of the station. Enemy fighters coming your way."

* * *

Korra received the report at the same time as everyone else. She began hunting the sky for the predicted Equalist craft, her gaze dropping to her instrumentation. "My scope's negative. I don't see anything."

"Maintain visual scanning," Blue Leader directed. "With all this energy flying, they'll be on top of you before your scope can pick them up. Remember, they can jam every instrument on your ship except your eyes."

Korra turned again, and this time saw an Equalist already pursuing an X-wing—an X-wing with a number Korra quickly recognized. "Toza!" she shouted. "You've picked one up. On your tail … watch it!"

"I can't see it," came her friend's panicked response. "Where is he? I can't see it." Korra watched helplessly as Biggs's ship shot away from the station surface and out into clear space, closely followed by the equalist. The enemy vessel fired steadily at him, each successive bolt seeming to pass a little closer to Toza's hull. "He's on me tight," the voice sounded in Luke's cockpit. "I can't shake him."

Twisting, spinning, Toza looped back toward the battle station, but the pilot trailing him was persistent and showed no sign of relinquishing pursuit. "Hang on, Toza," Korra called, wrenching her ship around so steeply that straining gyros whined. "I'm coming in."

So absorbed in his pursuit of Toza was the Equalist pilot that he didn't see Korra, who rotated her own ship, flipped out of the concealing gray below and dropped in behind him. Electronic crosshairs lined up according to the computer-readout instructions, and Korra fired repeatedly. There was a small explosion in space—tiny compared with the enormous energies being put out by the emplacements on the surface of the battle station. But the explosion was of particular significance to three people: Korra, Toza, and, most particularly, to the pilot of the TIE fighter, who was vaporized with his ship.

"Got him!" Korra murmured.

"I've got one! I've got one!" came a less restrained cry of triumph over the open intercom. Korra identified the voice as belonging to a young pilot known as Ryu. Yes, that was Blue Six chasing another Equalist fighter across the metal landscape. Bolts jumped from the X-wing in steady succession until the TIE fighter blew in half, sending leaf-like glittering metal fragments flying in all directions.

"Good shooting, Blue Six," the squadron leader commented. Then he added quickly, "Watch out, you've got one on your tail." Within the fighter's cockpit the gleeful smile on the young man's face vanished instantly as he looked around, unable to spot his pursuer. Something flared brightly nearby, so close that his starboard port burst. Then something hit even closer and the interior of the now open cockpit became a mass of flames.

"I'm hit, I'm hit!" That was all he had time to scream before oblivion took him from behind. Far above and to one side Blue Leader saw Ryu's ship expand in a fiery ball. His lips may have whitened slightly. Otherwise he might as well never have seen the X-wing explode, for all the reaction he displayed. He had more important things to do.

* * *

On the fourth moon of Yavin a spacious screen chose that moment to flicker and die, much as Ryu had. Worried technicians began rushing in all directions. One turned a drawn face to Asami, the expectant Commanders, and one quiet twin. "The high-band receiver has failed. It will take some time to fix …"

"Do the best you can," Asami snapped. "Switch to audio only."

Someone overheard, and in seconds the room was filled with the sounds of distant battle, interspersed with the voices of those involved. "Tighten it up, Blue Two, tighten it up," Blue Leader was saying. "Watch those towers."

"Heavy fire, Boss," came the voice of Kai, "twenty-three degrees."

"I see it. Pull in, pull in. We're picking up some interference."

"I can't believe it," Toza was stammering. "I've never seen such firepower!"

"Pull in, Blue Five. Pull in." A pause, then, "Korra, do you read me? Korra?"

Asami gripped the edge of the desk in front of her, knuckles turning white as each second passed before the reply came from the younger girl.

"I'm all right, Chief," came Korra's reply. "I've got a target. I'm going to check it out."

"There's too much action down there, Korra," Toza told her. "Get out. Do you read me, Korra? Pull out."

"Listen to them, you idiot, back off!" Asami murmured to herself, wishing she could see what was happening above her.

"Break off, Korra," ordered the deeper tones of Blue Leader. "We've hit too much interference here. Korra, I repeat, break off! I can't see her. Blue Two, can you see Blue Five?"

"Negative," Kai replied quickly. "There's a fire zone here you wouldn't believe. My scanner's jammed. Blue Five, where are you? Korra, are you all right?"

Asami's stomach fell when the next words rang through the com-speaker.

"She's gone," Toza started to report solemnly. Then his voice rose. "No, wait … there she is! Looks like a little fin damage, but the kid's fine." Relief swept the war room, and it was most noticeable in the face of the slightest, most beautiful Senator present, who then let go of a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

* * *

On the battle station, troopers worn half to death or deafened by the concussion of the big guns were replaced by fresh crews. None of them had time to wonder how the battle was going, and at the moment none of them much cared, a malady shared by common soldiers since the dawn of history.

* * *

Korra skimmed daringly low over the station's surface, her attention riveted on a distant metal projection.

"Stick close, Blue Five," the squadron commander directed her. "Where are you going?"

"I've picked up what looks like a lateral stabilizer," Korra replied. "I'm going to try for it."

"Watch yourself, Blue Five. Heavy fire in your area."

Korra ignored the warning as she headed the fighter straight toward the oddly shaped protuberance. Her determination was rewarded when, after saturating it with fire, she saw it erupt in a spectacular ball of superhot gas. "Got it!" she exclaimed. "Continuing south for another one."

Within the rebel temple-fortress, Asami listened intently. She seemed simultaneously angry and frightened. Finally she turned to Desna and muttered, "Why is Korra taking so many chances?" The stoic twin didn't reply.

"Watch your back, Korra," Toza's voice sounded over the speakers, "watch your back! Fighters above you, coming in."

Asami strained to see what she could only hear. She wasn't alone. "Force help her," Desna was whispering to himself.

Korra continued her dive even as she looked back and spotted the object of Toza's concern close on her tail. Reluctantly she pulled up and away from the station surface, abandoning her target. Her tormentor was good, however, and continued closing on her. "I can't shake him," she reported. Something cut across the sky toward both ships.

"I'm on him, Korra," shouted Kai. "Hold on." Korra didn't have to for very long. Kai's gunnery was precise, and the TIE fighter vanished brightly shortly thereafter.

"Thanks, Kai," Korra murmured, breathing a little more easily.

"Good shooting, Kai." That was Toza again. "Blue Four, I'm going in. Cover me, Kuon."

"I'm right with you, Blue Three," came the other pilot's assurance. Toza leveled them off, then let go with full weaponry. No one ever decided exactly what it was he hit, but the small tower that blew up under his energy bolts was obviously more important than it looked. A series of sequential explosions hopscotched across a large section of the battle station's surface, leaping from one terminal to the next.

Toza had already shot past the area of disturbance, but his companion, following slightly behind, received a full dose of whatever energy was running wild down there. "I've got a problem," Kuon announced. "My converter's running wild." That was an understatement. Every instrument on his control panels had abruptly gone berserk.

"Eject—eject, Blue Four," advised Toza. "Blue Four, do you read?"

"I'm okay," Kuon replied. "I can hold her. Give me a little room to run, Toza."

"You're too low," his companion yelled. "Pull up, pull up!" With his instrumentation not providing proper information, and at the altitude he was traveling, Kuon's ship was simple for one of the big, clumsy gun emplacements to track.

It did as its designers had intended it should. Kuon's demise was as glorious as it was abrupt. It was comparatively quiet near the pole of the battle station. So intense and vicious had been Blue and Green squadrons' assault on the equator that Equalist resistance had concentrated there. Red Leader surveyed the false peace with mournful satisfaction, knowing it wouldn't last for long.

"Blue Leader, this is Red Leader," he announced into his mike. "We're starting our attack run. The exhaust port is located and marked. No flak, no enemy fighters up here—yet. Looks like we'll get at least one smooth run at it."

"I copy, Red Leader," the voice of his counterpart responded. "We'll try to keep them busy down here."

Three Y-wing fighters dropped out of the stars, diving toward the battle-station surface. At the last possible minute they swerved to dip into a deep artificial canyon, one of many streaking the northern pole of the Death Star. Metal ramparts raced past on three sides of them. Red Leader hunted around, noticed the temporary absence of Equalist fighters. He adjusted a control and addressed his squadron. "This is it, boys. Remember, when you think you're close, go in closer before you drop that rock. Switch all power to front deflector screens—never mind what they throw at you from the side. We can't worry about that now."

Equalist crews lining the trench rudely awoke to the fact that their heretofore ignored section of the station was coming under attack. They reacted speedily, and soon energy bolts were racing at the attacking ships in a steadily increasing volume. Occasionally one would explode near one of the onrushing Y-wings, jostling it without real damage.

"A little aggressive, aren't they," Red Two reported over his mike.

Red Leader reacted quietly. "How many guns do you think, Red Five?"

Red Five, known casually to most of the rebel pilots as Wan, somehow managed to make an estimate of the trench's defenses while simultaneously piloting his fighter through the growing hail of fire. His helmet was battered almost to the point of uselessness from the effects of more battles than anyone had a right to survive. "I'd say about twenty emplacements," he finally decided, "some in the surface and some on the towers."

Red Leader acknowledged the information with a grunt as he pulled his computer-targeting visor down in front of his face. Explosions continued to rock the fighter. "Switch to targeting computers," he declared.

"Red Two," came one reply, "computer locked in and I'm getting a signal." The young pilot's rising excitement marked his reply.

But the senior pilot among all the rebels, Red Five, was expectantly cool and confident—though it didn't sound like it from what he murmured half to himself: "No doubt about it, this is going to be some trick."

Unexpectedly, all defensive fire from the surrounding emplacements ceased. An eerie quiet clung to the trench as the surface continued to blur past the skimming Y-wings.

"What's this?" Red Two blurted, looking around worriedly. "They stopped. Why?"

"I don't like it," growled Red Leader. But there was nothing to confuse their approach now, no energy bolts to avoid. It was Wan who was first to properly evaluate this seeming aberration on the enemy's part.

"Stabilize your rear deflectors now. Watch for enemy fighters."

"You pinned it, Wan," Red Leader admitted, studying a readout. "Here they come. Three marks at two-ten." A mechanical voice continued to recite the shrinking distance to their target, but it wasn't shrinking fast enough. "We're sitting ducks down here," he observed nervously.

"We'll just have to ride it out," the veteran told them all. "We can't defend ourselves and go for the target at the same time." He fought down old reflexes as his own screen revealed three TIE fighters in precision formation diving almost vertically down toward them.

"Three-eight-one-oh-four," Darth Amon announced as he calmly adjusted his controls. The stars whipped past behind him. "I'll take them myself. Cover me." Red Two was the first to die, the young pilot never knowing what hit him, never seeing his executioner. Despite his experience, Red Leader was on the verge of panic when he saw his wingman dissolve in flame.

"We're trapped down here. No way to maneuver—trench walls are too close. We've got to loosen it up somehow. Got—"

"Stay on target," admonished an older voice. "Stay on target." Red Leader took Wan's words like tonic, but it was all he could do to ignore the closing TIE fighters as the two remaining Y-wings continued to streak toward the target.

Above them, Amon permitted himself a moment of undisciplined pleasure as he readjusted his targeting computer. The rebel craft continued to travel a straight, un-evasive course. Again Amon touched finger to fire control. Something screeched in Red Leader's helmet, and fire started to consume his instrumentation. "It's no good," he yelled into his pickup, "I'm hit. I'm hit …!" A second Y-wing exploded in a ball of vaporized metal, scattering a few solid shards of debris across the trench.

This second loss proved too much even for Red Five to take. He manipulated controls, and his ship commenced rising in a slow curve out of the trench. Behind him, the lead equalist fighter moved to follow. "Red Five to Blue Leader," he reported. "Aborting run under heavy fire. TIE fighters dropped on us out of nowhere. I can't—wait—"

Astern, a silent, remorseless enemy was touching a deadly button once more. The first bolts struck just as Wan had risen high enough to commence evasive action. But he had pulled clear a few seconds too late. One energy beam seared his port engine, igniting gas within. The engine blew apart, taking controls and stabilizing elements with it.

Unable to compensate, the out-of-control Y-wing began a long, graceful plunge toward the station surface. "Are you all right, Red Five?" a troubled voice called over the inter-ship system. "Lost Tiree … lost Red," Wan explained slowly, tiredly. "They drop in behind you, and you can't maneuver in the trench. Sorry … it's your baby now. So long, Blue …" It was the last message of many from a veteran.

Blue Leader forced a crispness he didn't feel into his voice as he tried to shunt aside the death of his old friend. "Blue team, this is Blue Leader. Rendezvous at mark six point one. All wings report in."

"Blue Leader, this is Blue Ten. I copy."

"Blue Two here," Kai acknowledged. "Coming toward you, Blue Leader."

Korra was also waiting her turn to report when something beeped on her control board. A glance backward confirmed the electronic warning as she spotted an Equalist fighter slipping in behind her. "This is Blue Five," she declared, her ship wobbling as she tried to lose the TIE fighter. "I have a problem here. Be right with you."

She sent her ship into a steep dive toward the metal surface, then cut sharply up to avoid a burst of defensive fire from emplacements below. Neither maneuver shook his pursuit.

"I see you, Korra," came a reassuring call from Toza. "Stay with it."

Korra looked above, below, and to the sides, but there was no sign of her friend. Meanwhile, energy bolts from her trailing assailant were passing uncomfortably close. "Blast it, Toza, where are you?"

Something appeared, not to the sides or behind, but almost directly in front of her. It was bright and moving incredibly fast, and then it was firing just above him. Taken completely by surprise, the Equalist fighter came apart just as its pilot realized what had happened. Korra turned for the rendezvous mark as Toza shot past overhead. "Good move, Toza. Fooled me, too."

"I'm just getting started," her friend announced as he twisted his ship violently to avoid the fire from below. He hove into view over Korra's shoulder and executed a victory roll. "Just point me at the target."

* * *

Back alongside Yavin's indifferent bulk, Bumi finished an intense discussion with several of his principal advisors, then moved to the long-range transmitter. "Blue Leader, this is Base One. Double-check your own attack prior to commencement. Have your wingmen hold back and cover for you. Keep half your group out of range to make the next run."

"Copy, Base One," the response came. "Blue Ten, Blue Twelve, join with me." Two ships leveled off to flank the squadron commander.

Blue Leader checked them out. Satisfied that they were positioned properly for the attack run, he set the group to follow in case they should fail. "Blue Five, this is Blue Leader. Korra, take Blue Two and Three with you. Hold up here out of their fire and wait for my signal to start your own run."

"Copy, Blue Leader," Korra acknowledged the man, trying to slow her heart slightly. "May the Force be with you. Toza, Kai, let's close it up." Together, the three fighters assumed a tight formation high above the firefight still raging between other rebel craft of Green and Yellow squadrons and the Equalist gunners below.

The horizon flip-flopped ahead of Blue Leader as he commenced his approach to the station surface. "Blue Ten, Blue Twelve, stay back until we spot those fighters, then cover me." All three X-wings reached the surface, leveled off, then arced into the trench. His wingmen dropped farther and farther behind until Blue Leader was seemingly alone in the vast gray chasm. No defensive fire greeted him as he raced toward the distant target. He found himself looking around nervously, checking and rechecking the same instruments.

"This doesn't look right," he found himself muttering.

Blue Ten sounded equally concerned. "You should be able to pick up the target by now."

"I know. The disruption down here is unbelievable. I think my instruments are off. Is this the right trench?"

Suddenly, intense streaks of light began to shoot close by as the trench defenses opened up. Near misses shook the attackers. At the far end of the trench a huge tower dominated the metal ridge, vomiting enormous amounts of energy at the nearing ships.

"It's not going to be easy with that tower up there," Blue Leader declared grimly. "Stand by to close up a little when I tell you." Abruptly the energy bolts ceased and all was silent and dark in the trench once again. "This is it," Blue Leader announced, trying to locate the attack from above that had to be coming. "Keep your eyes open for those fighters."

"All short- and long-range scopes are blank," Blue Ten reported tensely. "Too much interference here. Blue Five, can you see them from where you are?"

Korra's attention was riveted to the surface of the station. "No sign of—Wait!" Three rapidly moving points of light caught his eye. "There they are. Coming in point three five."

Blue Ten turned and looked in the indicated direction. Sun bounced off stabilizing fins as the TIE fighters looped downward. "I see them."

"It's the right trench, all right," Blue Leader exclaimed as his tracking scope suddenly began a steady beeping. He adjusted his targeting instrumentation, pulling his visor down over his eyes. "I'm almost in range. Targets ready … coming up. Just hold them off me for a few seconds—keep 'em busy."

But Darth Amon was already setting his own fire control as he dropped like a stone toward the trench. "Close up the formation. I'll take them myself." Blue Twelve went first, both engines blown. A slight deviation in flight path and his ship slammed into the trench wall.

Blue Ten slowed and accelerated, bobbed drunkenly, but could do little within the confines of those metal walls. "I can't hold them long. You'd better fire while you can, Blue Leader—we're closing on you."

The squadron commander was wholly absorbed in lining up two circles within his targeting visor. "We're almost home. Steady, steady …"

Blue Ten glanced around frantically. "They're right behind me!"

Blue Leader was amazed at how calm he was. The targeting device was partly responsible, enabling him to concentrate on tiny, abstract images to the exclusion of all else, helping him to shut out the rest of the inimical universe. "Almost there, almost there …" he whispered. Then the two circles matched, turned red, and a steady buzzing sounded in his helmet. "Torpedoes away, torpedoes away."

Immediately after, Blue Ten let his own missiles loose. Both fighters pulled up sharply, just clearing the end of the trench as several explosions billowed in their wake.

"It's a hit! We've done it!" Blue Ten shouted hysterically.

Blue Leader's reply was thick with disappointment. "No, we haven't. They didn't go in. They just exploded on the surface outside the shaft." Disappointment killed them, too, as they neglected to watch behind them. Three pursuing Imperial fighters continued up out of the fading light from the torpedo explosions. Blue Ten fell to Amon's precision fire, then the Dark Lord changed course slightly to fall in behind the squadron commander.

"I'll take the last one," Amon announced coldly to his companions. "You two go back."

Korra was trying to pick the assault team out of the glowing gases below when Blue Leader's voice sounded over the communicator. "Blue Five, this is Blue Leader. Move into position, Korra. Start your attack run—stay low and wait until you're right on top of it. It's not going to be easy."

"Are you all right?"

"They're on top of me—but I'll shake them."

"Blue Five to Blue pack," Korra ordered, "let's go!" The three ships peeled off and plunged toward the trench sector.

* * *

Meanwhile Amon finally succeeded in hitting his quarry, a glancing bolt that nonetheless started small, intense explosions in one engine. Its R-2 unit scrambled back toward the damaged wing and struggled to repair the crippled power plant. "R-2, shut off the main feed to number-one starboard engine," Blue Leader directed quietly, staring resignedly at instruments which were running impossibilities. "Hang on tight, this could get rough."

Korra saw that Blue Leader was in trouble. "We're right above you, Blue Leader," she declared. "Turn to point oh five, and we'll cover for you."

"I've lost my upper starboard engine," came the reply.

"We'll come down for you."

"Negative, negative. Stay there and get set up for your attack run."

"You're sure you're all right?"

"I think so … Stand by for a minute."

Actually, it was somewhat less than a minute before Blue Leader's gyrating X-wing plowed into the surface of the station. Korra watched the huge explosion dissipate below her, knowing without question its cause, sensing fully for the first time the helplessness of her situation.

"We just lost Blue Leader," she murmured absently, not particularly caring if her mike picked up the somber announcement.

* * *

On Yavin Four, Asami rose from her chair and nervously began pacing the room. Normally perfect nails were now jagged and uneven from nervous chewing. It was the only indication of physical unease. The anxiety visible in her expression was far more revealing of her feelings, an anxiety and worry that filled the war room on the announcement of Blue Leader's death. "Can they go on?" she finally asked Bumi.

The General replied with gentle resolve. "They must."

"But we've lost so many. Without Blue or Red Leader, how will they regroup?"

Bumi was about to reply, but held his words as more critical ones sounded over the speakers.

"Close it up, Kai," Korra was saying, thousands of kilometers away. "Toza, where are you?"

"Coming in right behind you." Kai replied soon after. "Okay, Boss, we're in position."

Bumi's gaze went to Asami. He looked concerned.

* * *

The three X-wings moved close together high above the battle station's surface. Korra studied her instruments and fought irritably with one control that appeared to be malfunctioning. Someone's voice sounded in her ears. It was a young-old voice, a familiar voice: calm, content, confident, and reassuring—a voice she had listened to intently on the desert of Tatooine and in the guts of the station below, once upon a time.

"Trust your feelings, Korra," was all the Kenobi-like voice said. Korra tapped her helmet, unsure whether she had heard anything or not. This was no time for introspection. The steely horizon of the station tilted behind her.

"Kai, Toza, we're going in," she told her wingmen. "We'll go in full speed. Never mind finding the trench and then accelerating. Maybe that will keep those fighters far enough behind us."

"We'll stay far enough back to cover you," Toza declared. "At that speed will you be able to pull out in time?"

"Are you kidding?" Korra sneered playfully as they began their dive toward the surface. "It'll be just like Beggars Canyon back home."

"I'm right with you, Boss," noted Kai, emphasizing the title for the first time.

"Let's go …"

At high speed the three slim fighters charged the glowing surface, pulling out after the last moment. Korra skimmed so close over the station hull that the tip of one wing grazed a protruding antenna, sending metal splinters flying. Instantly they were enveloped in a meshwork of energy bolts and explosive projectiles. It intensified as they dropped down into the trench.

"We seem to have upset them," Toza chortled, treating the deadly display of energy as though it were all a show being put on for their amusement.

"This is fine," Korra commented, surprised at the clear view ahead. "I can see everything."

Kai wasn't quite as confident as he studied his own readouts. "My scope shows the tower, but I can't make out the exhaust port. It must be awfully small. Are you sure the computer can target it?"

"It better," Toza muttered.

Korra didn't offer an evaluation—she was too busy holding a course through the turbulence produced by exploding bolts. Then, as if on command, the defensive fire ceased. She glanced around and up for signs of the expected TIE fighters, but saw nothing. Her hand went to drop the targeting visor into position, and for just a moment she hesitated. Then she swung it down in front of his eyes. "Watch yourselves," she ordered his companions.

"What about the tower?" Kai asked worriedly.

"You worry about those fighters," Korra snapped. "I'll worry about the tower." They rushed on, closing on the target every second.

Kai stared upward, and his gaze suddenly froze. "Here they come—oh point three."

* * *

Amon was setting his controls when one of his wingmen broke attack silence. "They're making their approach too fast—they'll never get out in time."

"Stay with them," Amon commanded.

"They're going too fast to get a fix," his other pilot announced with certainty.

Amon studied several readouts and found that his sensors confirmed the other estimates. "They'll still have to slow down before they reach that tower."

Korra contemplated the view in her targeting visor. "Almost home." Seconds passed and the twin circlets achieved congruence. Her finger convulsed on the firing control. "Torpedoes away! Pull up, pull up."

Two powerful explosions rocked the trench, striking harmlessly far to one side of the minute opening. Three TIE fighters shot out of the rapidly dissipating fireball, closing on the retreating rebels.

"Take them," Amon ordered softly.

Korra detected the pursuit at the same time as her companions. "Kai, Toza, split up—it's the only way we'll shake them." The three ships dropped toward the station, then abruptly raced off in three different directions. All three TIE fighters turned and followed Korra.

Amon fired on the crazily dodging ship, missed, and frowned to himself. "The force is strong with this one. Strange. I'll take him myself."

Korra darted between defensive towers and wove a tight path around projecting docking bays, all to no avail. A single remaining TIE fighter stayed close behind. An energy bolt nicked one wing, close by an engine. It started to spark irregularly, threateningly. Korra fought to compensate and retain full control. Still trying to shake her persistent assailant, she dropped back into a trench again.

"I'm hit," she announced, "but not bad. R2, see what you can do with it." The tiny droid unlocked itself and moved to work on the damaged engine as energy bolts flashed by dangerously close. "Hang on back there," Korra counseled the R2 unit as she worked a path around projecting towers, the fighter spinning and twisting tightly through the topography of the station. Fire remained intense as Korra randomly changed direction and speed.

A series of indicators on the control panel slowly changed color; three vital gauges relaxed and returned to where they belonged. "I think you've got it, R2," Korra told it gratefully. "I think—there, that's it. Just try to lock it down so it can't work loose again."

The R2 unit beeped in reply while Korra studied the whirling panorama behind and above them. "I think we've lost those fighters, too. Blue group, this is Blue Five. Are you clear?" She manipulated several controls and the X-wing shot out of the trench, still followed by emplacement fire.

"I'm up here waiting, Boss," Kai announced from his position high above the station. "I can't see you."

"I'm on my way. Blue Three, are you clear? Toza?"

"I've had some trouble," her friend explained, "but I think I lost him." Something showed again, damnably, on Toza's screen. A glance behind showed the TIE fighter that had been chasing him for the past several minutes dropping in once more behind him. He swung down toward the station again. "Nope, not yet," Toza told the others. "Hold on, Korra. I'll be right there."

As Korra soared high above the station another X-wing swung in close to her. She recognized Kai's ship and began hunting around anxiously for his friend. "We're goin' in, Toza—join up. Toza, are you all right? Biggs!" There was no sign of the other fighter. "Kai, do you see him anywhere?"

Within the transparent canopy of the fighter bobbing close by, a helmeted head shook slowly. "Nothing," Kai told her over the communicator. "Wait a little longer. He'll show."

Korra looked around, worried, studied several instruments, then came to a decision. "We can't wait; we've got to go now. I don't think she made it."

"Hey, you guys," a cheerful voice demanded to know, "what are you waiting for?" Korra turned sharply to her right, in time to see another ship racing past and slowing slightly ahead of her. "Don't ever give up on old Biggs," the intercom directed as the figure in the X-wing ahead looked back at them.

* * *

Within the central control room of the battle station, a harried officer rushed up to a figure studying the great battle screen and waved a handful of printouts at him. "Sir, we've completed an analysis of their attack plan. There is a danger. Should we break off the engagement or make plans to evacuate? Your ship is standing by."

Governor Tarrlok turned an incredulous gaze on the officer, who shrank back. "Evacuate!" he roared. "At our moment of triumph? We are about to destroy the last remnants of the Alliance, and you call for evacuation? You overestimate their chances badly … Now, get out!" Overwhelmed by the Governor's fury, the subdued officer turned and retreated from the room.

* * *

"We're going in," Korra declared as she commenced her dive toward the surface. Kai and Toza followed just aft.

"You can do this, Korra," Asami's soft voice sounded inside her helmet.

Korra smiled, feeling a rush of confidence, and gripped her controls. Once more, energy bolts reached out for them, passing harmlessly on both sides as the surface of the battle station charged up into her face. But the defensive fire wasn't the cause of the renewed trembling Korra suddenly experienced.

Several critical gauges were beginning their swing back into the danger zone again. She leaned toward the pickup. "R2, those stabilizing elements must have broken loose again. See if you can't lock it back down—I've got to have full control."

Ignoring the bumpy ride, the energy beams and explosions lighting space around it, the little robot moved to repair the damage. Additional, tireless explosions continued to buffet the three fighters as they dropped into the trench. Toza and Kai dropped behind to cover for Korra as she reached to pull down the targeting visor. For the second time a peculiar hesitation swept through her. Her hand was slower yet as she finally pulled the device down in front of her eyes, almost as if the nerves were in conflict with one another. As expected, the energy beams stopped as if on signal and she was barreling down the trench unchallenged.

"Here we go again," Kai declared as he spotted three Equalist fighters dropping down on them. Toza and Kai began crossing behind Korra, trying to draw the coming fire away from her and confuse their pursuers. One TIE fighter ignored the maneuvers, continuing to gain inexorably on the rebel ships.

Korra stared into the targeting device—then reached up slowly to move it aside. For a long minute she pondered the deactivated instrument, staring at it as if hypnotized. Then she slid it sharply back in front of her face and studied the tiny screen as it displayed the shifting relationship of the X-wing to the nearing exhaust port.

"Hurry, Korra," Toza called out as he wrenched his ship in time to narrowly avoid a powerful beam. "They're coming in faster this time. We can't hold them much longer."

With inhuman precision, Darth Amon depressed the fire control of his fighter again. A loud, desperate shout sounded over the speakers, blending into a final agonized scream of flesh and metal as Toza's fighter burst into a billion glowing splinters that rained down on the bottom of the trench.

Kai heard the explosion over his speakers and hunted frantically behind him for the trailing enemy ships. "We lost Toza," he yelled toward his own pickup. Korra didn't reply immediately. Her eyes were watering, and she angrily wiped them clear. They were blurring her view of the targeting readout.

"We're a couple of shooting stars, Toza," she whispered huskily, "and we'll never be stopped." Her ship rocked slightly from a near miss and she directed her words to her remaining wingman, biting down hard on the end of each sentence. "Close it up, Kai. You can't do any more good back there. R2, try to give me a little more power on our rear reflectors." The R2 unit hurried to comply as Kai pulled up alongside Korra's ship.

The trailing TIE fighters also increased their speed. "I'm on the leader," Amon informed his soldiers. "Take the other one."

Korra flew just in front of Kai, slightly to port side. Energy bolts from the pursuing Equalists began to streak close about them. Both pilots crossed each other's path repeatedly, striving to present as confusing a target as possible. Kai was fighting with his controls when several small flashes and sparks lit his control board. One small panel exploded, leaving molten slag behind.

Somehow he managed to retain control of the ship. "I've got a bad malfunction, Korra. I can't stay with you."

"Okay, Kai, get clear."

Kai mumbled a heartfelt "Sorry" and peeled up out of the trench.

Amon, concentrating his attention on the one ship remaining before him, fired. Korra didn't see the near-lethal explosion which burst close behind her. Nor did she have time to examine the smoking shell of twisted metal which now rode alongside one engine. The arms went limp on the little droid. All three TIE fighters continued to chase the remaining X-wing down the trench. It was only a matter of moments before one of them caught the bobbing fighter with a crippling burst. Except now there were only two Equalists pursuing. The third had become an expanding cylinder of decomposing debris, bits and pieces of which slammed into the walls of the canyon

Amon's remaining wingman looked around in panic for the source of the attack. The same distortion fields that confused rebel instrumentation now did likewise to the two TIE fighters. Only when the freighter fully eclipsed the sun forward did the new threat become visible. It was a Corellian transport, far larger than any fighter, and it was diving directly at the trench. But it didn't move precisely like a freighter, somehow. Whoever was piloting that vehicle must have been unconscious or out of his mind, the wingman decided. Wildly he adjusted controls in an attempt to avoid the anticipated collision.

The freighter swept by just overhead, but in missing it the wingman slid too far to one side. A small explosion followed as two huge fins of the paralleling TIE fighters intersected. Screaming uselessly into his pickup, the wingman fluttered toward the near trench wall. He never touched it, his ship erupting in flame before contact.

To the other side, Darth Amon's fighter began spinning helplessly. Unimpressed by the Dark Lord's desperate glower, various controls and instruments gave back readings which were brutally truthful. Completely out of control, the tiny ship continued spinning in the opposite direction from the destroyed wingman—out into the endless reaches of deep space.

Whoever was at the controls of the supple freighter was neither unconscious nor insane—well, perhaps slightly touched, but fully in command nonetheless. It soared high above the trench, turning to run protectively above Korra.

"You're all clear now," a familiar voice informed her. "Now blow this thing so we can all go home." This pep talk was followed by a reinforcing whoop which could only have been produced by a particularly excited Bolin.

Korra looked up through the canopy and smiled. But her smile faded as she turned back to the targeting visor. There was a tickling inside her head. "Korra … trust me," the tickle requested, forming words for the third time. She stared into the targeter.

The emergency exhaust port was sliding toward the firing circle again, as it had once before —when she'd missed. She hesitated, but only briefly this time, then shoved the targeting screen aside. Closing her eyes, she appeared to mumble to herself, as if in internal conversation with something unseen.

With the confidence of a blind man in familiar surroundings, Korra moved a thumb over several controls, then touched one. Soon after, a concerned voice filled the cockpit from the open speakers. "Base One to Blue Five, your targeting device is switched off. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Korra murmured, barely audible. "Nothing." She blinked and cleared her eyes. Had she been asleep? Looking around, she saw that she was out of the trench and shooting back into open space. A glance outside showed the familiar shape of Mako's ship shadowing her. Another, at the control board, indicated that she had released her remaining torpedoes, although she couldn't remember touching the firing stud. Still, she must have.

The cockpit speakers were alive with excitment. "You did it! You did it!" Kai was shouting over and over. "I think they went right in."

"Good shot, Korra." Mako complimented her, having to raise his voice to be heard over Bolin's unrestrained cheering.

Distant, muted rumblings shook Korra's ship, an omen of incipient success. She must have fired the torpedoes, mustn't she? Gradually she regained her composure. "Glad … you were here to see it. Now let's get some distance between us and that thing before it goes. I hope Kai was right."

Several X-wings, Y-wings, and one battered-looking freighter accelerated away from the battle station, racing toward the distant curve of Yavin. Behind them small flashes of fading light marked the receding station. Without warning, something appeared in the sky in place of it which was brighter than the glowing gas giant, brighter than its faroff sun. For a few seconds the eternal night became day. No one dared look directly at it. Not even multiple shields set on high could dim that awesome flare.

Space filled temporarily with trillions of microscopic metal fragments, propelled past the retreating ships by the liberated energy of a small artificial sun. The collapsed residue of the battle station would continue to consume itself for several days, forming for that brief span of time the most impressive tombstone in this corner of the cosmos.


	13. Chapter 13: The End

Author's Note:

Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter up - It is the last chapter in this story, but I am considering continuing along with the canon story line with the next book. I hope those who have read along have enjoyed the story!

* * *

Chapter 13: The End

* * *

A cheering, gleeful throng of technicians, mechanics, and other inhabitants of the Alliance headquarters swarmed around each fighter as it touched down and taxied into the temple hangar. Several of the other surviving pilots had already vacated their ships and were waiting to greet Korra. The center of the carnival atmosphere was formed by three figures who battled to see who could compliment the others the most. When it came to congratulatory back-slapping, however, Bolin won by default. There was laughter as the large boy looked embarrassed at having nearly flattened Korra in his eagerness to greet her

"I knew you'd come back," Korra was shouting, "I just knew it! I would've been nothing but dust if you hadn't sailed in like that, Mako!"

The elder Solo had lost none of his smug self-assurance. "Well, I couldn't very well let a flying farm girl go up against that station all by herself. Besides, I was beginning to realize what could happen, and I felt terrible about it, Korra—leaving you to maybe take all the credit and get all the reward."

As they laughed, a lithe figure, robes flowing, rushed up to Korra in a very un-senatorial fashion. "You did it, Korra, you did it!" Asami was shouting. She fell into Korra's arms and hugged her as Korra spun her around. As Korra slowed the momentum and put Asami back down, the blue-eyed girls arms wrapped tightly around the Princess's waist, pulling her in close as they smiled shyly at each other. "I was so worried, if you didn't make it back I…"

Korra silenced the older girl by closing the gap and kissing Asami soundly, blushing as she pulled away. "Don't worry, Princess, I'll always come back for you."

Asami smiled widely at Korra, before the clearing of someone's throat broke their attention. Asami blushed and moved to the two brothers and repeated the hugging embrace. Expectantly, they were not quite as embarrassed.

Suddenly awed by the adulation of the crowd, Korra turned away. She gave the tired X-wing fighter a look of approval, then found her gaze traveling upward, up to the ceiling high overhead. For a second she thought she heard something faintly like a gratified sigh, a relaxing of muscles a crazy old man had once performed in moments of pleasure. Of course, it was probably the intruding hot wind of a steaming jungle world, but Korra smiled anyway at what she thought she saw up there.

* * *

There were many rooms in the vast expanse of the temple which had been converted for modern service by the technicians of the Alliance. Even in their desperate need, however, there was something too clean and classically beautiful about the ruins of the ancient throne room for the architects to modify. They had left it as it was, save for scouring it clear of creeping jungle growth and debris. For the first time in thousands of years that spacious chamber was full. Hundreds of rebel troops and technicians stood assembled on the old stone floor, gathered together for one last time before dispersing to new posts and distant homes.

For the first time ever the massed ranks of pressed uniforms and polished semi-armor stood arrayed together in a fitting show of Alliance might. The banners of the many worlds which had lent support to the rebellion fluttered in the gentle breeze formed inside. At the far end of a long open aisle stood a vision gowned in formal white, barred with chalcedony waves—Asami Sato's signet of office. Several figures appeared at the far end of the aisle. One, massive and hirsute, showed signs of running for cover, but was urged on down the open row by his companion.

It took several minutes for Korra, Mako, Bolin, Desna, and finally Eska, to cover the distance to the other end. They stopped before Asami, and Korra recognized General Bumi among the other dignitaries seated nearby. Bolin shuffled nervously, giving every indication of wishing he were someplace else. Mako silenced him with an elbow to the ribs as Asami came forward. At the same time banners tilted in unison and all those gathered in the great hall turned to face the dais. She placed something heavy and golden around Mako's neck, then Bolin's—having to strain to do so—and finally around Korra's. Then she made a signal to the crowd, and the rigid discipline dissolved as every man, woman, and mechanical present was permitted to give full vent to their feelings.

As she stood awash in the cheers and shouts, Korra found that her mind was neither on her possible future with the Alliance nor on the chance of traveling adventurously with Mako and Bolin. Instead, unlikely as Mako had claimed it might be, she found her full attention occupied by the radiant Asami Sato. She noticed the shorter girls unabashed stare, but she only smiled.


End file.
